


Slutbox

by EndlessStairway



Series: Slutbox and alternatives [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abandonment, Abortion, Alien Impregnation, Alien breeding ritual, Attempted self-abortion, Blood, Body Horror, Body Modification, Bondage machines, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Conditioning, Dehumanization, Electrocution, Enemas, Forced Breeding, Forced Prostitution, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt No Comfort, Knotting, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel)'s Punishments, Loki Whump, Loki has a bad time, Loki/Tony Highly Dub Con, M/M, Mention of blood and injuries, Might not end well, Multi, Mutual non-con (Loki/Steve Rogers), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Piercing, Non-Consensual Tattooing, Non-humanoid alien non-con, Oviposition, Public Use, Punishment, Rape, Sensory Deprivation, Sensory Manipulation, Slave Loki (Marvel), Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Strangulation, Suspension Bondage, Tentacle Rape, The grandmaster's non-consensual sex machines, Thoughts of death, Tiny scraps of comfort, Torture, Whump, mental manipulation, minor self-harm, non-con AI/meatsack foursome, non-consensual dental work, so much non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 53
Words: 115,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessStairway/pseuds/EndlessStairway
Summary: Loki doesn’t make it off Sakaar, and the Grandmaster is displeased with him.
Relationships: En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki, Loki/Tony Stark, Loki/others
Series: Slutbox and alternatives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055036
Comments: 2628
Kudos: 1149





	1. Installed

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, if the title doesn't give it away, this is not a well plotted, well crafted story. This is me trying to get over my writers block, and if I have to suffer, you can all come along with me!

Loki’s last coherent memory was Thor holding up the control device for the obedience disk, a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. After that came a blurred, disjointed string of images; his brother’s lecture, inaudible over the shrieking burn of pain in his ears, the ceiling of the hanger, then a parade figures walking past him as he writhed and burned on the floor. A craft took off behind him, and then there was nothing but the sound of his blood boiling in his veins. His seidr fought to keep him alive while the disk on his back did its best to torture him to death. He was caught between the two forces like a rat in the jaws of a terrier, helpless with agony and rage, until darkness overtook him.

To his surprise, he woke up.

_“Oh look, he is alive. You were right, Topaz. Heh...I owe you the afternoon off.”_

A boot landed in his ribs, and Loki wheezed. His eyes were open but so damaged from the unknown hours of electrocution that he could only see a watery blur.

_“I don’t want the afternoon off.”_

Another kick, probably from the owner of the second voice, the Grandmaster's bodyguard, Topaz. “What do you want to do with him?”

Loki tried to speak, to raise his hand, to bargain. He had made a bad decision in trusting Thor, but he could still be useful to the Grandmaster. He had information. He knew where Thor had gone, for one thing, and he knew the locations of many powerful and ancient artifacts. He knew the secrets of Yggdrasil and even of Ginnungagap, the place between worlds. Surely, he could talk his way out of this.

His voice was gone, though. Loki could barely open his jaw, the muscles were clenched from spasming, and blood filled his mouth where he had bitten his tongue. Loki had no voice, he had no sight, he had no control over his body or his magic.

He was in trouble.

_“Hmm.”_

The first voice sounded thoughtful, and Loki knew who it belonged to. He could almost picture the Grandmaster standing over him in his ridiculous golden robe and his sandals, tapping his finger against his painted lip as he considered Loki’s situation. Loki prayed to the fates that Topaz didn’t have the melt-stick to hand, or Loki would soon be nothing but a stinking pool of melted flesh.

“Turn him over, if you please. Lets...yes...lets get a good look at him.”

Loki whimpered as he was grabbed and rolled over. The movement triggered his every nerve to scream at once, his body lighting up with pain as his brain tried to catalog the damage.

 _Damn you Thor,_ Loki thought to himself. It was a vicious, stabbing reminder that no matter what he tried to do, if he tried the straight path or the twisted path, his destiny was never a kind one. It was his nature to fail, and to be punished. His limbs flopped as he toppled over, landing face down on the cold floor of the hanger. He tried to twitch a finger but he couldn’t even do that.

His breath was crushed out of him by a heavy weight. It took his muddled mind a few seconds to realize that Topaz had her boot on his back, and was leaning her weight on him, holding him down. Not that he needed it, of course, but Topaz had never liked him.

“Hmm.” The Grandmaster’s voice was closer now. Loki could feel the presence of the elder pressing against his senses. The Grandmaster moved in a wave of power, bending the natural forces of time and space around himself. Loki had been fascinated by it when he first met him. So much raw power swirled around him. The Grandmaster existed on a many-layered plane of reality. He was an ancient being of unimaginable power, he could unravel the universe and ravel it back up in anyway he chose, but instead he chose to rule a garbage-dump planet. He as a giggling despot who arranged death-matches in his arena and only slightly less life-and-death maneuvers in his court. He was utterly mad, petty, and bloodthirsty. He lacked any form of empathy or compassion, and now Loki was entirely as his mercy.

Loki shivered as his clothes disintegrated around him, turned to dust and then to atoms. The Grandmaster must be angry to use his power so blatantly. He rarely did, preferring to use the tools and drugs his lackeys created for him. A hand squeezed Loki's buttock, kneading it like a fruit tested for ripeness. Loki almost swallowed his tongue in his desperation to speak. He could make potions, he could create chemical compounds that would delight the Sakaaran court! Loki cursed himself for not mentioning it when he had the chance. He had been holding back, keeping reserves of tricks to retain the Grandmaster’s favor. Only now, his favor was so far gone that he was checking Loki over like cheap meat, and Loki had no way to argue for his own skin. All he could do was drool on the floor and stare blindly at the shadows that crossed his eyes.

The hand gave his other buttock the same treatment, kneading and squeezing. Then fingers dug into Loki's flesh and spread his cheeks, exposing the tight furl of muscle between.

This was not good. This was not good at all. Loki had hoped to avoid becoming one of the Grandmaster’s pleasure toys. The elder was not gentle with them, and they were rarely seen at court for longer than a week before they were replaced. But, Loki rationalized to himself, trying to convince himself that was not so bad, it was better than the melt-stick. Such a role would give him time to recover his voice and to negotiate. His words were the best weapon he had here, and even in a day he would have them back. He could tolerate the Grandmaster’s intimate brutality for a day, surely?

The foot on his back pressed down, the heel digging into his spine. “Shall I take him to your chambers?”

Topaz twisted her boot, and all Loki could do was blink and try to breathe through the waves of pain and nausea.

There was a long pause. Loki’s ass was given another thoughtful kneading. A sudden terror washed over Loki that there actually was a _worse_ outcome than being the Grandmaster’s plaything. He could be made into one of his party toys, hidden in the backrooms of the expansive festival halls where Loki had not cared to venture. Loki had heard about it though. Men and women and creatures of all kinds were available for use there. Everything from pretty girls in gold-curtained beds in the first rooms, to far darker pleasures in the back.

The Grandmaster idly picked the obedience disk off the floor and snapped it onto Loki’s neck. The filaments dug into the soft flesh there, threading into his nerve endings, ready to torture him again.

“If it wasn’t for this...mmm...this _betrayal_ , Loki, I would be very tempted to keep you. You’re pretty, you have a nice...heh...a nice ass, don’t you, mmm? Very nice.” Fingers drummed on Loki’s lower back, and by force of will Loki managed to grunt, hoping that it sounded contrite.

“Shh, shh, shh.” The Grandmaster’s voice moved away, the touch disappearing. “But you’ve disappointed me, little Loki. You hurt my feelings! My feelings are hurt, so no. No. Topaz, I can’t let my feelings be disregarded like this. Its very rude. Too rude. You need to learn some manners, and I know just the thing. You’re going to...uh...well, not _like_ it, as such, no, but I think you’ll thank me when you’re done.”

There was the brushing sound of robes and sandals against the smooth floor, and then from a distance, the Grandmaster’s parting words to Topaz. “Put him...heh...put him in the box.”

Loki was dragged all the way from the hanger back to the Grandmaster’s festival halls, naked. Topaz took great delight in ordering it done. The silent, masked guards that followed the Grandmaster around simply looped a rope around Loki's ankles and started walking. Loki could not even see the stars disappearing as the hanger doors closed behind him, his eyes were too damaged. He had no idea what ‘the box’ was, but he was sure it was nothing good. He was certain, in fact, that it was very, very bad.

Loki was sure Topaz took the long way around, just for the pleasure of dragging his face through as much garbage and stinking, filthy offal as possible. Topaz did not like him, and Loki now regretted teasing her, and making the court laugh with jokes at her expense. She had never showed it, but apparently she held a grudge, and it was payback time.

The noise of the festival halls grew as they got closer. The parties there never ended, they merely grew and shrank with the time of day and with the Grandmaster’s presence or absence. As soon as he arrived, day or night, the eager members of his court arrived moments after, ready to jostle with each other for a chance to impress the madman that held their fate in his hands. Loki had been one of them, not too long ago. Now he was towed through those same halls like a roped steer, a buzz of interest following along. The bright light darkened as they exited the public halls and went through the back rooms, on and on, deeper into them like a labyrinth. _It can’t be that big,_ Loki thought as he tried to memorize left and right and distance, a very difficult feat when being dragged face down. _It just seems so big because you can’t see it. Maybe they're looping around to confuse you._

Eager voices greeted the group, questioning the guards, asking who he was and where he was being taken.

Topaz’s brusque voice answered them. “He’s going in the box. But the boss gets the first turn, so don’t bother following. Who knows when he’ll get around to it.” She must have learned down for the next part. “Who knows if he’ll even remember that you’re here, you dumb little slut. I’m certainly not going to remind him.”

Loki blinked, his vision clearing a fraction. He was a fast healer, that much was in his favor at least. Whatever this ‘box’ was, he could survive it. Whatever they did to him, he would heal from it and recover. This was a set back, and temporary one. He was alive, he was breathing and he going to get through this.

Loki started to take in his surroundings. They were passing small booths curtained off with sheer, gauzy fabric. Loki squinted and tried to see what was inside them as they passed, but they were moving to quickly for him to focus.

It was not until they stopped out side one booth, this one larger with dark curtains, that Loki got a chance to see what was waiting for him.

At first, he could not make any sense of what he saw. Inside the booth was a curved case of gleaming chrome, about the size of a large suitcase but shaped more like a pear. Above it, hanging from the ceiling was a machine with flexible tubes and pipes hanging down.

Loki squinted until it all suddenly became clear, and then he wanted to vomit. The chrome case was the box, and he was going to be put inside it. There were circular cutouts on each side, one would be for his head, and Loki had a very unpleasant feeling that he knew what the other one was for.

The guards dragged Loki into the booth and waited while Topaz went to fetch an attendant. He could not tear his eyes away from his fate. The case was open, showing an interior fitted with restraints and other devices Loki's eyes were still too blurred to see. He tried to move. He tried to find his seidr, but it was out of his reach, just past his fingertips. He had burned too much of it just staying alive, and it would take time for it to replenish.

Topaz returned, followed by a tall, thickset attendant wearing all white. She would have looked like a nurse if it wasn't for the thick cudgel on her belt and the obedience disk on her neck. She rubbed her hands together, leaning down the look Loki over.

"Lovely, lovely," she said approvingly, stroking Loki's hair back from his face. "A new little bird for the box. Lovely. Let's get you in, shall we?"

Loki's weak moan was ignored, and at the attendant's nod the guards lifted him and placed him on his back on the padded bench inside the chrome case. The attendant passed heavy straps over his chest and hips, ratcheting them tight. Loki tried to speak, to protest, or even to fight but he could not not. He was only able to moan and twitch his fingers. Inside his head he was screaming, but there was nothing he could do. The attendant, the guards and Topaz had no mercy for him.

Once he was strapped down, the attendant pushed his knees up to his chest and passed another strap behind his thighs to hold him in place. She buckled his ankles into the waiting cuffs above his chest, then did the same with his wrists, ignoring his pitiful swat at her when he tried to resist. It had been less than a minute, and Loki was trussed up like a suckling pig, wrist to ankle, and worse was to come.

“He's a magic user,” Topaz smugly informed the attendant. She nodded and adjusted some dials on the machine that hung above the case.

Loki was finding it hard to breathe. The straps over his chest and his folded position compressed his lungs. His blood was thundering in his veins, his eyes sparkling with stars as adrenaline flooded his system with nowhere to go. He moaned again, louder this time. His voice was returning, too late to help him. Loki could not believe this was happening to him. It was a nightmare, a terrible dream that he would wake up from any moment. His strength was coming back now, just as his vision had come back. It was too late, but he tried to fight anyway, straining against the straps and the cuffs that held him in this obscene, humiliating position. His struggles had no effect, and the attendant did not even pay him any attention. It was as though he was not worthy of consideration, as though were a mindless beast inside her machine.

A hand rummaged between his legs and then there was suction on his cock. A sheath fitted over it and was secured with a strap behind his balls. Next came a smear of cool gel on his hole and Loki managed a yell of outrage as the attendant pushed a plug inside him. Loki’s eyes bulged. He had never been treated like this, like a piece of meat, and did not even know how to react. The attendant twisted the plug and made sure it was well seated. Loki’s stomach churned, his hole burned from the stretch, and he let out a strangled gasp as the thing began to grow, a pump whirring to life as the thing inside him rippled and pulsed.

“There we go, little bird,” the attendant said, soothing him as though he were a dog. “That’s going to get you all cleaned out and ready.”

 _Ready for what?_ Loki thought desperately to himself, but of course, he knew. He knew what happened in these backrooms and now he was one of those anonymous bodies, he was being turned into a hole for the Grandmaster’s guests to use.

But he wasn’t done.

The attendant came around to his head, something concealed in her hand. Loki clamped his jaw shut, his teeth grinding together, but the attendant just chuckled.

“Oh dear,” she said sympathetic, her head cocked to one side. “Someone’s a little nervous. Don’t worry little bird, once we get you all set up here, you won’t have anything to worry about.” She waved her hand and Topaz triggered the obedience disk, sending burning fire through Loki’s body. When it stopped, Loki's mouth fell open and the attendant shoved a handful of soft putty inside. Loki tried to spit it out but it writhed and moved inside his mouth. It was as though it were alive. Loki cried out in disgust as it coated his teeth and wriggled down the back of his throat, making him gag and choke. He tried to chew it, to bite it, but to his horror the stuff was hardening in his mouth, drying like clay. As it dried it changed shape, forcing his mouth open until his jaw ached. It must have been only a few seconds until it was over and Loki could not close his mouth. He ran his tongue around his mouth, frantic to know what he had been done to him. His teeth were all coated in the stuff, no longer sharp but soft and flat, and he moaned in despair. He was being turned into an object, into an _thing_ with two holes to use and no other purpose.

The attendant picked up another plug, large and sleek with a fat bulge at the end.

 _No_ , Loki thought. _No, no no,_ but the thing was shoved into his open mouth and a strap snapped into place, silencing his helpless moans. The tip of the thing nudged the back of his throat. Loki gagged and frantically swallowed around it, unable even to hold it in place with his teeth. His mouth was an open hole, and whatever was put in there was going to stay there.

He blinked, his eyes blurring again and he realized he was crying. He did not want this. He did not want to be a toy in the Grandmaster's harem of sex slaves. He did not want to be installed into this machine and put to use. But, as always, it didn't matter what he wanted. This was happening. It was happening and he needed to survive it.

The plug in his ass pulsed again, a throb that felt like a warning. Loki did not know where to give his attention; to his penetrated ass, to his restraints, to the thing in his mouth. The attendant bustled back to the other end, out of Loki’s sight. Despite himself, Loki stared at Topaz, pleading with his eyes to have some mercy on him. _Don’t do this to me,_ he silently begged, _please don’t do this._ She understood well enough, and she leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“I knew you were a worthless little slut the moment I saw you. Looks like I was right.”

Loki would get no mercy from her.

There was a hiss and the tubes connected to the machine above him moved like snakes as liquid started to flow. The attendant reached up and adjusted a dial, then she pulled a hose down and snapped it onto the plug in Loki's ass. Loki shuddered as he realized what was happening; his insides were being filled with the blue liquid that pumped through the clear tube. He tossed his head from side to side, clenched his fists, strained against the cuffs and the straps, but nothing worked. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The machine inexorably chugged and pumped him full, his belly swelling and cramping, his guts burning from whatever chemicals he was being filled with.

“Nearly done,” the attendant said cheerfully.

Loki resolved to murder her first, as soon as he was out of this thing. The attendant released the latches on the chrome case and lowered the lid, sealing it in place around Loki’s helpless body. The machine hissed again and a seal formed around Loki’s neck, and around his hips and thighs. Loki's body was locked in the case, only his head and plugged ass obscenely exposed. The seals locked into place and then the inside of the case swelled like the putty that had been shoved into Loki's mouth. In a few moments, there was not even any room inside for Loki to wriggle his fingers; he was held in place, utterly immobile.

The machine changed tone and the pump reversed. The liquid began to flow out of Loki’s body, easing the cramping in his guts and giving him a few precious millimeters more to breathe. Before he could appreciate the relief of it, the attendant was back at Loki's head again. She made sure his hair would not get snagged, then she snapped a harness around his head and clipped it to the case, forcing his head back and pinning him there, his face upside-down, his open mouth at a convenient angle for anyone who cared to pay him a visit. The plug in his mouth brushed the back of his throat and Loki choked on it again, swallowing around it, trying to get acclimated to the intrusion.

Everything had happened so fast. Just a few minutes ago he had been lying on the floor and now he was inside this box, bound and plugged and helpless. His head spun, his neck ached, he could hardly breathe, his ass burned and his guts cramped. Tears ran down his face from the corners of his eyes. So this was his fate, then. Abandoned by his brother, again, he was to be a fuck-toy for as many anonymous revelers as cared to use him.

The attendant stood over him, again adjusting dials and controls, until the plug in his mouth pulsed and throbbed.

 _No,_ Loki thought again, even though it was already clear that his opinion did not matter at all. _No!_

Some kind of thick liquid leaked from the plug. It was so far back in Loki’s throat that he could barely taste it, but he swallowed it anyway. It was that or choke on it, and despite everything, despite this humiliation and inevitable pain, he still wanted to live.

“There,” the attendant said, satisfied. “That will keep you nice and calm, and it comes out of the other end real easy, little bird.”

Topaz gave a nasty laugh. _Drugs,_ Loki thought desperately. He should not have been surprised. The Grandmaster’s parties were awash with drugs and Loki had partaken of them himself when he had to. The second half of the attendant’s words registered then, and Loki’s stomach dropped. _It comes out of the other end real easy?_ He was to be fed this way, then? And cleaned by the machine? This was...this was _permanent?_ He would not be released to eat and sleep and recover? He grunted again, and again was ignored. Even Topaz was done gloating, it seemed. Loki was out of her hair, and beneath her notice. She did not care at all what happened to him now.

 _No one does,_ Loki thought, miserable tears dripping down his face, _No one cares._

“Just the finishing touches now, little bird,” the attendant said. Before Loki could react, she snapped a blindfold over his eyes, and pushed soft, spongy plugs into his ears. The effect was instantaneous. All Loki could see was darkness, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the soft throb of the pumps connected to the two plugs. A hand patted him on his ass, and then there was nothing.

Loki did not know how long he was left there. The plug in his mouth trickled its drugged paste down his throat twice, and the plug in his ass filled and emptied him once. He could not hear anything, and he remembered what Topaz had told him. The Grandmaster would take the first turn with him, but there was no guarantee that he would even remember that he had Loki installed in this machine, in this box.

Loki could be in for a long wait.

His muscles ached and cramped, and then went numb. There was an occasional slight breeze on his bare ass, but Loki did not know what it was or where it came from. For all he knew, there could be crowds of people surrounding him. He could be eagerly watched, the obscene display of his exposed hole could be the center piece of the party, or he could be utterly ignored and forgotten

Loki startled and wrenched his muscles in his shock when one of the plugs was pulled out of his ear.

_“Ahhh...heh...there you are.”_

Loki could have wept in relief at hearing the Grandmaster’s voice. He was not forgotten, not abandoned here to float in darkness and silence.

“Now, then. You’ve got quite a group of admirers, Loki. They are very...heh...very excited to see you here. I guess you made a lot of friends, hmmm? Well, let’s...uh...let’s get this party started shall we?”

The plug in Loki's mouth was pulled out, trailing saliva. Loki tried to bite down but he had forgotten about the hardened putty. He moaned, weak and pathetic, unable even to speak in his defense. It didn’t matter, because no one would care for his begging anyway. His open mouth was soon filled again, the familiar buzz and tingle of the Grandmaster’s immense power surrounding him as he shoved his cock down Loki’s throat.

The Grandmaster was well endowed. His cock was far bigger than the plug, thicker and longer. Loki gagged as it hit the back of his throat and kept going, sliding into the tighter channel of his throat until the Grandmaster’s pelvis pressed up against his face. The gentle brush of his golden robes was a bizarre contrast to the forceful shove of his cock.

Loki could not even turn his head, he could not move even a fraction of a millimeter. His mouth was a hole to fuck, and the Grandmaster was going to take him, and then he was going to let him be taken over and over by anyone who wanted him. Loki moaned, and the Grandmaster laughed at the vibration, delighted.

“Let’s have some more of that, hmm?” he said, tapping Loki’s throat with the tips of his fingers. Loki didn’t comply. He refused to play along with this abuse, with his humiliation, but it turned out that his cooperation was entirely irrelevant.

“Have it your way,” the Grandmaster said brightly. A moment later something touched Loki’s neck, it felt like cool metal, and with a click the thing started to vibrate. The vibration carried through his throat and the Grandmaster gasped as he got what he wanted. The cock in Loki's mouth started to pump, fucking his face as roughly as Loki had ever experienced, as though he were a toy, as though he were nothing. The vibrating device made his teeth ache and his head pound, but none of that mattered as the Grandmaster used him and the crowd around him cheered and whooped as he ground his hips and came down Loki’s throat.

“Alright! Good job there...very nice, nice and tight,” he said as he pulled out, leaving the vibrating device activated. “Who’s next? Go on, all of you, he's all yours. Don't say I never give you anything, mmm?”

There was anther cheer and the plug was unceremoniously pulled out of Loki’s ass. It was swiftly replaced by another cock, huge and ridged, and then another cock was pushed down his throat, pumping eagerly. Loki was taken at both ends, still blindfolded he had no idea who was fucking him but they were hard and fast, filling him up with sticky cum and making way for the next in line.

“How long is he here for?” a voice asked, and Loki could have wept with gratitude that someone had asked. However long it was, at least it would not be forever.

“Oh I don’t know…” the Grandmaster mused. “He did...you know, he did hurt my feelings…”

“Five hundred!” a voice cried out from the crowd, and another said, “Six hundred!” a moment after. The bidding did not stop and by the time the two using him had finished and made way for the next, the bid was over two thousand.

 _Two thousand what?_ Loki wondered vaguely. He was already floating, the combination of drugs and diminished oxygen making everything hazy.

“Two thousand it is!” The Grandmaster cried with a clap of his hands. “Set that up for him will you ...hmm...Topaz?" Loki flinched as a light flicked inside his blindfold, a number appearing in the corner of his eye.

_20,000._

“Oops,” Topaz hissed in his ear. The soft plug was shoved back into place, isolating him inside his own head with the throb of the machines and the beat of his own heart. The cock in his mouth pulsed and another load of warm cum slid down Loki’s throat. The number flickered and changed.

_19,999._

_Oh no,_ Loki thought, staring blindly in horror at the number. _No, no no._

But, just like all his other frantic and despairing thoughts, it changed nothing. Loki was installed in the Grandmaster’s pleasure rooms, bound and drugged and available, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He would be here for a long, long time.


	2. Calculation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm still on my bullshit. Any suggestions to make Loki suffer more? I'm open to it, although no promises - my muse is a fickle thing at the moment.

_19,950_

It took Loki a long time to notice that the number was no longer ticking down. When he was finally able to focus on it, he also realized that the parade of cocks in his mouth and his ass had ended. He was still penetrated, of course. The plugs that the attendant had fitted him with were back, and he swallowed as the thick, bitter paste oozed from the one in his mouth. He had lost almost all feeling in his body by now, except for the raw, burning pain in his roughly used hole and his abraded throat. The Grandmaster’s guests were not gentle, and why should they be? Loki was not a person to them anymore, he was two warm holes, he was a device to be used for their pleasure. And use him they had.

The plug in his ass throbbed as the cleaning liquid started to flow, flushing out the sticky deposits left inside him. Loki wished he could clean out his stomach too, which churned with the seed of every man and man-like creature who had fucked his mouth and come down his throat. The cleaning liquid was pumped out of him, and a sudden cramp hit him as cold gel came next, oozing out of the plug and coating his insides. He was grateful enough for the lubricant; he would be a much worse state without it, but it took time for it to warm up. The pain of hard use was already fading. Maybe it was the drugs he was fed, or his own healing ability, or perhaps a combination of both. Whatever the cause, Loki was glad of it.

The soft interior of the casing started to swell, and Loki’s breath caught in his lungs as he squeezed inside it. His knees were pushed up to his chest and pressed down, compressing his lungs. He fought back against the machine but the straps and cuffs gave him no leeway, and whatever the machine was made of was much stronger than him. He was on the verge of panic when the pressure eased, and then returned in pulsing waves. Loki’s body was being massaged all over by the soft lining of the box, keeping his blood moving and preventing sores from forming.

 _How considerate,_ Loki thought despairingly to himself as his body was fed and cleaned and manipulated by the machine. He may as well not be there, his participation in this obscene and degrading installation was not required in the slightest. Loki had no doubt that, if he wanted to, the Grandmaster could create a fuck-toy that was lifelike in every way, except that it did not require a sentient being to be turned in a doll. But of course, that was the whole point. The whole point of The Box was that it _was_ a real person. Everyone who came into this booth and shoved their cocks inside him knew it. They were either aroused by it or they were grateful that it was not them in Loki's position. Most likely some were afraid that if they showed and qualms or had the slightest hesitation about raping him that it might indeed be them next time.

Loki was installed here as a warning, as well as a game. He had tried to escape, and he had betrayed the Grandmaster. He could easily have been executed, but that would have been over in moments. Here, he was on display for everyone to see, for everyone to know what happened to people who did what he had done. And he would be here for…

Loki’s head spun as he tried to calculate. Had it already been a day? He had been fed three times and cleaned twice. According to the counter he had been taken fifty times, how long would that take? How long had each person who used him taken? He tried to work it out, but the numbers blurred and faded in his head.

 _If each person took ten minutes, that’s how many per hour? How many minutes in an hour? Sixty, So six per hour. No, twelve, because_ \- he forced himself to think the thought, as horrifying as it was - _because they can use me two at a time. So twelve per hour. So fifty people is…how long?_

He tried, but his usually razor sharp mind was sluggish and uncooperative. He could not focus, and when the box ended its pulsing massage and started kneading his flesh instead, he could not even remember what he had been thinking about.

A moment later, he noticed there was a light behind the blindfold, and a low hum in his ears. Was he hallucinating? Loki closed his eyes and the light went away. He opened them and it came back. It was a tiny point of white light in the center of his vision, next to the glowing red numbers that counted down his sentence. He stared at it for a long time, trying to make sense of it. He was still staring when the plug was yanked out of his ass and his freshly cleaned and lubricated hole was once again pierced and pumped by an anonymous cock.

_19,949_

Whoever was in his booth now, they only wanted his ass. The plug was left inserted in his mouth as his tender hole was fucked over and over by fat, ridged cocks that shoved into him like rams and pumped furiously for minutes on end before stuttering and leaving their seed, pulling out and being replaced by the next. Maybe it was the same two or three men taking turns, or maybe there was a line out his door all the way back to the festival hall. Loki had no way to know. He had no way to prevent anyone from fucking him as often and as roughly as they pleased.

 _I am going to murder Topaz first_ , he decided as his breath was punched out of him by a particularly savage thrust. _Topaz first, then that damned attendant, then the Grandmaster. Slowly._

_19,925_

The light under the blindfold grew and started to pulse, and Loki stared at it. His mouth was in use now, and the light seemed to be pulsing in time with the thrusting of the cock down his throat. Loki still was not sure if he was hallucinating, but when the light pulsed he could breathe in, and when it faded he could breathe out. It took him a long time to find the rhythm. Of course, it changed with every new reveler to step up to use his mouth, but it was strangely comforting to watch the light and breathe in time with it. He felt less alone, even though he was very far from alone as he was taken at both ends.

Sometimes the light stayed very dim as the seconds ticked by. That happened when the cock down his throat was too fat or too long for him to breathe around, or when the brute using him enjoyed choking him. Some of them turned the vibration collar up to maximum and ground against his face while he gagged and suffocated. But even then, the little light stayed with him, and when the latest sticky load had been deposited in his stomach the light brightened and he could breathe again.

_19,900_

The plugs were back in. It was time for feeding, cleaning and the manipulation of his body inside the box. The low hum in his ears was pulsing now too, white noise that was almost in the background, but not quite. The white light was edged with green, like an iris, and Loki watched it curiously as he swallowed down his drugged meal. He was almost sure he was not imagining it, but he knew better than most that darkness and isolation played tricks with the mind, so he did not rule it out. He had completely lost track of time now. He had tried to count seconds and minutes, but he always lost count before he passed one hundred, the numbers falling over each other and fading away, lost in the pulsing rhythm of the white light. Maybe it had been a full day, maybe more. Could he take one hundred cocks in one day? Could be have been raped in his ass and his mouth one hundred times in just twenty-four hours? Was a day even twenty-fours hours on Sakaar? There were - he paused and tried to calculate again, but he could not - there were a lot of similar days still to come.

His respite was over, and the plug in his mouth was pulled out. As soon as the waiting length pushed down his throat, the green iris around the white light came to life, changing shape to a graceful swirl, dancing across his vision. He timed his breathing with the white light and watched the green glow dance in spirals and twirls, entranced by it. When the plug in his ass was pulled out and yet another cock was stuffed inside him, the green swirl was joined by a light blue one. The colored lights twisted together and formed delicate patterns. The after-images trailed across his dark-accustomed eyes, lighting up the areas of his brain that had been plunged into darkness and silence. Loki was disappointed when the man using his mouth finished and pulled out, and the green light faded away.

When his mouth was filled again the green light came back. A rush of endorphins glittered through Loki’s brain, followed almost immediately by a sudden horrified retaliation of what was happening to him.

He was being conditioned.

Brainwashed, some would call it. He was being trained to welcome his own use, to associate being penetrated with pleasure, and the lack of penetration with darkness and isolation. The lurch of horror was enough for him to shake off the dreamlike state of the drugs and struggle against the machine that held him. He reached for his magic that was nowhere to be found, flexed his feet and strained his back against the box.

As he fought, the low hum in his ears grew louder. It became a pulsing throb that echoed his frantic heartbeat, matching his rhythm and then slowing, clearly trying to calm him and soothe him like a beast being broken to the bridle.

Loki tried to block it out, but he couldn’t. _I will not be tamed,_ he thought furiously.

The white light vanished and he was in utter darkness again. The two men using him still pumped inside him heedlessly. Without even the comfort of the white light to guide his breathing Loki gagged and tried to inhale, choking himself. His chest heaved in panic until he tasted the sour spill of seed in his open mouth and the cock pulled out, letting him breathe after what seemed like long minutes of suffocation. He gasped desperately, knowing his mouth would be filled again in just a few moments. He had to calm himself before that happened, because it made no difference to the men using him if he could breathe or not. They would just make use of the warm, wet hole of his mouth, spill their seed and made way for the next in line. Loki’s torment meant nothing to them. If they thought about the person they were using at all, it would be with satisfaction that he had done something to deserve being installed here for public use. As far as they cared, Loki deserved everything he got.

Loki managed to control himself. His pulse settled down and the throb in his ears faded back to white noise. He was rewarded with the white light again, the tiny pinprick that he had first become aware of. The green and blue glow was gone, and Loki realized with a sinking heart that he would have to earn them back.

 _No,_ he reminded himself. _You don’t want them back. They’re not helping you._

He tried to think of something else, but what was there? What did Loki have to hold onto in the darkness of his own head? His family was gone, his home was gone. His past was a lie, and his future was...what? Finding favor again with the Grandmaster and making a place for himself here on Sakaar? Was that the best he could hope for now? To be forgiven for his betrayal and allowed to stay with the being who had done this to him?

The white light pulsed, and Loki breathed in and out.

_19,891._


	3. Conditioned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved all your suggestions! Lots of votes for Thor to find Loki all broken and turned into the Grandmaster's compliant little sex-toy, which I am strongly in favor of, but Loki has got a long way to go before that can happen! He's gonna be in the box for a while, and I don't know that my evil muse will let him out anytime soon. Evil Muse is driving on this one...

Loki watched anxiously as the number counted down. The white light had started when the counter reached 19,950, and the green and blue lights at 19,000.

Predictability was key.

Loki knew how conditioning worked, and he also knew that knowing how it worked did not make it any less effective. It made it worse, in fact, to know what was being done to you but be helpless to prevent it.

The abrasive cock in his mouth shuddered and another serving of slimy, bitter seed slid down Loki's throat.

_19,850._

The plug was pushed back into his mouth while the creature using his ass finished and enthusiastically slapped his exposed buttocks before pulling out. The counter didn't register that one, which hardly seemed fair. Loki laughed to himself a little hysterically at that thought. _Fair?_ What about this was fair? Was this a just punishment for what he had done? To be stripped of his identity, of his freedom, of the slightest ability to move, communicate, consent? To be turned into an abject lesson on the consequences of betrayal?

_It's what you deserve._

Loki tried to shut that thought out, but there was nowhere for it to go. He was trapped in his head with it. The plug was pushed into his anus and the cleaning cycle began. Loki wondered if the attendant was here, waiting for the countdown, or if the damned machine took care of everything. Perhaps he was entirely automated. Perhaps the box did all the required maintenance of his body as a pleasure-station for the Grandmaster's guests. Loki's guts were filled with the cleaning solution, his belly was filled with the nutrient paste, his skin was massaged and his muscles compressed and released. He may as well be a doll. A living doll, used and played with as his owner desired.

 _One-hundred and fifty down._ Loki again tried to calculate the passage of time. He needed to find something solid in his increasing dissociated, floating world of lights and sublimated pain. How many times had he been fed now? Four? Five? Was he cleaned every time he was fed? He was losing track. _It must have been two days,_ he decided. The number inside the blindfold was solid, at least. It did not waver like the colored dancing lights, it did not pulse like the white light that helped him breathe; it was solid and steadily ticking downwards.

_19,850._

_So one-hundred and fifty in two days. That was seventy-five per day. And seventy-five per day meant how many days left?_

The drugged paste slipped down his throat as Loki struggled with the numbers. He could do this! It was simple mathematics. He had calculated the passage of the stars and the ever-shifting pathways between them. He had measured potion ingredients to microscopic accuracy and understood the expected exothermic and endothermic reactions to the minutest degree. He gave up and started over.

He picked a round number. _What if it was one-hundred per day. Twenty-thousand at one hundred per day would be…_

The number that he came up with was too much for him to look at. He took one sideways glance at it and let it float away. Surely that was not accurate. He must be mistaken. The Grandmaster would notice if he was gone for so long. Wouldn’t he?

_Who knows if he’ll even remember that you’re here, you dumb little slut._

Loki squeezed his eyes shut tight behind the blindfold. Topaz was lying. She was lying because she hated him. The Grandmaster had put Loki here to learn his lesson, and he would want him back when it was over. Loki was not put here to be forgotten, cast aside and immediately replaced by some other entertainment. _No._

Lost in his thoughts, Loki didn’t notice when the maintenance cycle ended and the plug in his ass was eagerly pulled out. He _did_ notice that when his hole was roughly filled, the suction-sheath over his penis started to vibrate, the suction increasing slightly. He had completely forgotten about that, and even when the damned attendant had put it on him he had assumed it was for...well, not for _this._

Whoever was fucking him was taking their time, enjoying long, slow thrusts that churned and roiled in Loki’s guts. With slow-dawning horror, Loki realized the suction on the device was pulsing in time with the cock in his ass.

 _No,_ he thought to himself, trying to throw his weight from side to side, to writhe and kick and fight, to end this monstrous degradation. All he succeeded in doing was clenching down around the cock of the creature fucking him. He seemed to appreciate it as he sped up his thrusts and finished, even patting Loki's helpless flesh as he pulled out.

Loki sobbed as the sheath ended its rhythm, the lights behind the blindfold faded, and he was left alone in the dark again.

_19,849._

It was quiet for a time. Perhaps there was an event in another part of the festival hall that was keeping people away. _Or,_ Loki's treacherous thoughts whispered, _perhaps there is an even newer attraction to play with. Perhaps you're already old news, too fucked out and used-up to bother with anymore._ Without the plug, the seed left inside him started to leak out. Loki could feel it drip down his crack, warm and wet, just like his tears. There was nothing he could do about either of them.

Loki clenched his jaw. He was unable to even grind his teeth. The faint remaining hint of sensation from the sheath over his cock was maddening. It was far too light to be stimulating, and it was obviously unwelcome, but he had nothing else to do. There was nothing else to think about. His mind was a beast in a cage, rattling the bars, and the only stimulation to be found was the ghost of the suction on his cock.

Out of habit, Loki sucked on the plug in his mouth. There was no nutrient-paste now, but the bulbous end of it was at the back of his throat. If he sucked on it he felt a slightly greater edge of control than if he just let it sit there. Loki squirmed again. The inside of the case was still inflated, compressing his body knees to chest, but he was almost used to that now. His joints no longer ached, his hole was tender but not painful, and all he wanted was to scratch the itch that newly burned through him.

 _It’s the drugs,_ he told himself vaguely. _You’re drugged. This isn't real. You don’t want this._

A slight breeze on his ass was Loki's only warning before another cock rubbed at his entrance and then pushed inside. Everything lit up. The blue light glowed and swirled under the blindfold. The suction-sheath on his cock restarted its rhythm. When the mouth-plug was removed and another cock thrust down his throat, Loki sighed around it. The white light pulsed as he breathed, and the emerald-green swirl joined the azure-blue to spin and dance and twist before his eyes.

The red numbers flickered. While Loki stared, hypnotized by the entrancing pattern of lights, they changed.

_19,868._


	4. Wager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just getting worse, people! Tags are updated. Does anybody here like tentacles?

Loki couldn’t trust anything. He couldn’t trust the countdown, the lights, the feeding, the cleaning, or the plugs that were eased back into his sore and aching body. The rhythm changed constantly. Time moved forwards and backwards, sometimes it even stood still, holding Loki in stasis, a still point in the center of a storm of violation and degradation. Nothing here was real, and nothing could be trusted.

Instead, Loki floated. He let his mind wander and his body fall away. He had survived that way before, not by fighting but by being like water, like air, malleable and shapable. Just as it had been with Odin and Thanos, the Grandmaster’s power was too great for Loki to resist. Loki’s meager connection to Yggdrasil had been severed as easily as a string cut with scissors and he had no other defense against such overwhelming force. In the hands of men more powerful than he, Loki did what he always did: he tried to survive.

The only way he knew how to survive such punishment was to let it wash through him like a tide. A high tide could reshape the land that it pounded against, but there was always _something_ left when low tide came. No matter how broken and battered he was at the end of it, he could gather up the broken shells and ocean-polished sea-glass scattered on the sand, and make something of himself again. Change was life, and forced change was Loki's life.

He had been through it before, after all. Odin's tide had been deep and dark, washing away Loki's life on the day of his birth, destroying any evidence of his home and family and replacing it with his own. Loki had been scrubbed clean by that tide, but he still survived, and he would do it again. He would do it as many times as he had to.

Dissociated from his body, Loki did his best to ignore those who came to his booth to fuck him. Most were quick and although some could be savage, thrusting into him as harshly and brutally as they could, Loki let it pass him by. There was nothing he could do to stop them, after all. Their use of his body was his punishment, decided by the Grandmaster, and Loki would have to submit to it because there was no escape. He had no other choice.

Time had passed, Loki was sure about that. He did not know how many times the tide had swelled and receded, taking a bit more of him away with each time. The drugs helped him endure it, lessening the pain even as they eased his mind loose from its moorings. He did not know if he had taken the two-thousand rounds that the Grandmaster had sentenced him to, or even the twenty-thousand that Topaz, in her hatred, had decided he should suffer. He didn’t know. All he knew was to lie on his back, legs up, head back and mouth open for the use of anyone, literally anyone who passed by.

Loki’s own cock was endlessly stimulated and semi-hard now. Maybe that was the drugs too, as well as the sleeve that gently teased and sucked on his tender flesh whenever his ass was used. He was not allowed to climax, not even once, and the tight ball of unwanted arousal lived in his belly. The plug that was inserted in his ass had started to vibrate days or even weeks ago. His cleanings were now close to torture as the warm liquid sloshed inside him and the slow pulse throbbed against his prostate. It was because of the pleasure, as much as the pain, that Loki tried to float away. There was something very, very wrong with someone who would _enjoy_ this treatment.

 _I do not enjoy it,_ Loki insisted to himself, even as his cock ached from his enforced arousal.

The cleaning over, the plug in his ass was removed, but he was not immediately penetrated. It was enough of a change to his routine to get his attention. Usually, whoever was waiting for the cleaning cycle to finish would yank out the plug and stuff their own eager member inside without pause, impatient to enjoy Loki’s newly cleaned hole and the fresh dose of lubricant. Now, a cool breeze played over his ass, but nothing was shoved inside him. Loki squirmed in his confinement. The sheath would not start its maddening suction and the lights under the blindfold would not begin their dance until he was in use. It was not that he _wanted_ it, but he was _expecting_ it, and when it didn’t happen tension bloomed in his belly. Surely there was nothing worse? This must be the depths of his punishment, to be sealed in this box and made available for public use? To be turned into a plaything of the Grandmaster’s court? Surely...surely there was not more?

_He’s here._

The thought surfaced in Loki’s mind, heaving up from the dark water of the high tide that submerged him. Even in his drugged and dazed state, Loki could feel the Grandmaster’s power bending reality before him like a bow-wave as he approached.

_He’s here._

_Be good._

_Be good._

_Be good be good be good_

_I_ am _being good. I am. How could I not be? I’m being what he wants me to be._

_He’s here._

The plug was withdrawn from his mouth and a hand rested on Loki's cheek. Fingers gently brushed his cheekbone, curving around the blindfold, and Loki almost wept from it. How long had it been since he had been touched gently? How long since he had been acknowledged as a creature with feelings?

The aura of trailing power circled the box. Inside it, Loki clenched his hands to fists and curled his toes, the only movement he was free to make. The hand brushed his cheek again and Loki moaned out loud, desperate for that gentle, power-filled touch.

One of the soft earplugs was popped out of his ear, and the world outside sounded shockingly loud. Loki had got used to the thudding of his own heartbeat being the only noise.

Another brush of tingling fingers, and then, “Ah…Loki, Loki, Loki. Hello there. Have you missed me?”

Loki tried to form the word, but his propped-open mouth could not make the sound and all he could do was let out a breathy, helpless groan.

_Please, please, please._

The Grandmaster chuckled. “Well....heh...I guess I’ll go ahead and take that as a 'yes'. I have a treat for you. I’ve been telling my friends about you, you know, about this delectable little - heh - _tender_ morsel of an Asgardian that I’ve been...well, I won’t lie, I’ve been a _teensy_ bit upset with you, haven't I? We don’t have to go into that now, but you know that’s why you’re here, mmm?”

Loki moaned again. If he was able to talk he would have been begging. He would beg, if he had the chance, but he could not even nod. The dreamlike haze he existed in was stripped away in the presence of the Grandmaster, and Loki could feel every ache, every pain, the raw burn of his ass, the swollen abrasion of his throat, the pain in his jaw, all his muscles weak and trembling. Was the Grandmaster here to punish him further? To see if he had been humbled enough? To throw him into some even blacker depth of despair?

_He hasn’t forgotten me._

More words were exchanged over Loki’s head. He couldn’t tell if it was in a language the Allspeak somehow couldn't translate, or if he was simply too disoriented to take it in. There were more people in the booth with them, Loki could hear the low rumble of conversation, chuckles and footsteps, the clink of glasses. It sounded like a lot of people. How many could even fit in this booth? Had he been been moved? _Where was he?_

“...are you paying attention there? Oh my, oh dear, surely you’re not going to be rude to my friends, are you now, Loki?”

 _No, no no!_ Loki grunted again, panic sweeping through him. He had missed something, he had done something wrong, he had not been good!

“Ahh, I see the trouble, of course, silly me….” A quick pinch in his open mouth and the hardened putty that had stretched Loki's jaw softened and was pulled out. He was able to close his mouth for the first time in far too long. It was agony. He felt as though his bones were grinding on each other as he moved his jaw, disused muscles suddenly forced into action. Had he been asked a question? He must be expected to talk. If he did not respond appropriately the putty would be back and his mouth would only have one purpose again, perhaps permanently this time.

“Thank you,” Loki managed to whisper. A wave of laughter rippled through the room, the acoustics very different to the small booth Loki remembered. Was he in the main festival halls?

“Oh, that’s adorable. You are very welcome, sweetheart.” The Grandmaster's voice was light and genial, as if he had done Loki some meaningless favor.

The laughter died down and the Grandmaster continued. “Now, I have a little wager with my friends here. I know you would just love, love, love to show me how sorry you are by helping me win my bet, hmmm, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Loki said at once, his voice croaky and alien in his one unplugged ear. “Yes, Grandmaster, of course.”

_Just let me out. Please, please let me out. I’ll do whatever you want._

“Oh wonderful. I knew you would be a good sport about this. Do you know, I can hardly remember why I was so upset with you. Let's see, what was our wager, Kuuth?”

A gruff voice the Loki presumed belonged to Kuuth spoke up. “You bet me that your little pet here would enjoy taking it up the arse from all of us at once.”

“Mmm ahh yes, well, a little crude, but yes! I know you’ve been enjoying your time in the box, isn’t that right Loki? Taking some time to think about what you’ve done, to get yourself all...mmm...all revved up for me? Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” There was only one correct answer to a question like that. To any of the Grandmaster’s questions, to anything he wanted the answer was yes. Yes, yes, yes.

_Please let me out._

“Well, go on then, help yourselves,” the Grandmaster urged. “He’s all...heh...he’s all set up for you here.”

The gruff voice of Kuuth spoke up again. “You said he would enjoy it. How do we know he’s enjoying it?”

“Mmm of course, yes, he _will_ enjoy it. Won’t you sweetheart?”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“And how will they know?”

Loki wracked his brain, unused to speaking, to thinking, to working around a problem and finding a solution to it. He had been a grain of sand washed by the tide for too long, and he simply could not revert back quickly enough. “I will tell you, Grandmaster?” he tried, the words thick on his tongue, raspy and quiet.

Kuuth snorted, disbelief clear in his tone.

Impatient fingers drummed on Loki’s cheek, Loki’s heart rate surged as he knew he had answered wrongly.

Thankfully, Kuuth saved him. “We’ll know, because if he likes it as much as you say he does, he’ll come when we stuff him full, won’t you, little pet?”

Loki’s stomach turned over. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice breaking, the word almost a sob. He was going to fail, there was no way he was going to be able to climax.

Loki whimpered as something touched the exposed skin of his buttocks. It was not a hand, it was a different kind of appendage. Something that left a trail of warm, wet slime across his skin.

_What kind of creature is this Kuuth?_

The Grandmaster clapped his hands. “Wonderful, I do love a contest. Now, Loki, just so you know, if you disappoint me I’m going to have to, oh I don’t know, put you up for auction I think. I don’t like to lose a wager.”

Loki's stomach clenched. _Auction?_ What chance did he have to avoid that fate? He could not climax. He could not! Surely the Grandmaster knew that? But before Loki could find a way to communicate his problem, the appendage crawling across his rear moved to his hole and started to circle, the wet, muscular sensation almost like a tongue. Loki opened his mouth to protest, to plead his case, but another appendage was waiting and plunged inside as he parted his lips. He gurgled as it slid down his throat. It was not a cock, it moved and squirmed under its own power like the muscular arm of a sea-creature.

_Ovipositor._

Loki’s mind blanked out in horror, visions of egg-laying tentacles squirming through his insides, filling him with soft, jelly-like spawn. His head was still harnessed to the box, so Loki could not escape the tentacle as it slipped deeper into him. All the could do was stare into the blindfold and try not to gag.

The tentacle at his rear heaved and pushed, muscling its way inside him. It was not a thrust like a cock, but a fleshy, lubricated maneuver. The thing moved inside him, finding it’s way through his guts. Loki cried out, muffled by the tentacle in his mouth which was already halfway down his throat and not stopping. He could not breathe, the white light under his blindfold was dim, waiting for the thing to open his airway again. But it didn’t move, just throbbed and pulsed in his throat as its brother explored Loki’s body from the other end.

“He’s an air-breather,” Kuuth warned, his voice coming from the far distance. Loki almost passed out from relief when the creature at his head grunted and pulled out of his throat, allowing him to suck in air. Loki’s gratitude fled when Kuuth continued. “Use the other end.”

The sheath on Loki’s cock was gently vibrating, the vacuum sucking and releasing as it always did, but this time Loki made every effort to let himself go, to fall into the sensation instead of float above it. He needed to enjoy this. He needed to climax if was going to avoid the auction. Loki opened his eyes under the blindfold, letting the dancing lights stimulate the parts of his brain that were so starved of stimulation. He had to prove himself, he had to do what the Grandmaster wanted and climax, or he would be _sold._ No doubt whoever bought him would be worse that the Grandmaster. It was safer here. Loki wanted to stay.

A second tentacle joined the first at Loki's rear, wriggling at his entrance and demanding its way inside. There was nothing Loki could do to stop it from forcing its way next to the first, stretching him out and making room for itself. Loki’s ring of muscle was no barrier, and he did not even try to resist. The heat and tightness of his body must have been pleasurable for the invaders. They both gave out satisfied grunts as Loki’s body yielded and let the second appendage in. Loki started to rock his hips a fraction of an inch. That was as far as he could move in the tight compression of the box, but even that small motion helped intensify the suction of the sheath as it worked his cock.

Loki wished for the drugged paste again. As if his thought had been heard, the plug was pressed to his lips and he gratefully opened his mouth and took it down his throat. Now he could close his mouth around it he could control it better. Loki sucked it as eagerly as he had ever sucked a cock, swallowing the gritty food as fast as he could. The drugs relaxed him, easing the pain and turning off his screaming thoughts.

“Well that’s two,” Kuuth said, his voice closer now. Perhaps he had been the one to give Loki the plug to suck on. “Lets see how he likes three.”

_Three? No! No, no no!_

Loki moaned in despair as a third tentacle joined the first two. The stretch was already brutally tight. He was tougher than most, but Loki was not indestructible. If these three monsters tore him open, he would not be able to recover before the next round of cocks came to pleasure themselves in his body. Loki had to calm himself. He breathed around the mouth-plug and tried to relax his muscles. He could not fight. He had to relax into it, to embrace it and _enjoy_ it.

The third tentacle forced its way in, and Loki screamed around the plug. Kuuth did not stop.

“He doesn’t sound like he’s enjoying it.” The appendage rammed deeper into Loki’s body, twining and squirming around the two already inside, the twisted roots like one monstrous cock in Loki’s body, forcing him open and rearranging everything inside him. He was being hollowed out, his guts stretched and reshaped for the throbbing mass of tentacles that writhed inside him.

“You’re right. Maybe he doesn’t like it, after all, hmm?”

 _I do._ Loki protested in his head, desperately looking for the slightest spark of pleasure under the shame, humiliation and pain of this punishment. _I do like it, I do, I do._ Now the gag was back in his mouth he could not argue. He had lost his chance for that and all he could do was show with his body that he was eager and receptive to this use. It was that, or face the auction.

The tentacles started to pulse. They throbbed down their full length, puffed up and shrank down. By lucky chance one of the tentacles pressed against his prostate, sending a flicker of something other than pain through his nerves. The sheath sucked on his cock and Loki rocked his hips minutely. He squeezed his eyes shut under the blindfold, focused only on the glimmer of pleasure. Loki sucked on the plug in his mouth. He had sucked cock before and liked it. He tried to remember that, willingly giving his lovers pleasure. The fat weight on his tongue did not have to be a violation, it could be something wanted and desired. It _was_ that way. Loki _liked_ it He _enjoyed_ it.

“Ahh there we go. Heh...he just needed to get warmed up. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

The fingers were back, tapping on Loki’s jaw. This time they sent flickers of ancient magic through his body, lighting up his nerves and sending him tumbling through space and time. His pleasure was magnified one-hundred fold and suddenly, unbelievably, Loki was hard. The sheath strained around his cock, the three tentacles squirmed in their slime, sending waves of pleasure through him, pressing on his prostate. Even the burning stretch and impossible fullness of his guts was a new and thrilling sensation, not a horrifying violation, but something to savor. Loki sucked on the plug and clenched down on the three creatures inside him as hard as he could. They laughed and pumped him faster, eager to finish. The muscular appendages were so far inside him that Loki thought one would rise up and burst out of his mouth. He wondered if he could suck on it instead of the plug. That depraved thought tipped the balance and the dark tide dragged him under. Loki thought of being so utterly emptied that he could be filled from end to end, that he could be worn like a glove, that he was nothing but a puppet on a string, a doll, a toy. He was the Grandmaster's creature.

Loki groaned as he came. The blindfold lit up with fireworks as the crowd around him whooped and cheered.

The Grandmaster had won his bet. Loki was safe.


	5. Entertainment

Loki woke up laying on a soft, padded surface. He blinked and shook his head, awakening a riot of aches and pains throughout his body. He didn't care about any of them, however, because he was laying on his side, and he was out of the box. He tried to sit up and discovered that his hands were tied behind his back and his ankles bound together. He shook his head again, trying to clear it. There was something wrong with his eyes - everything around him was blurred and shadowed. Maybe he had been kept in darkness for too long, and now he could hardly see at all.

_“Ahh, there you are.”_

Loki’s pulse jumped. He swiveled to find the source of the voice, confused by the unnatural darkness of his vision and the muffled, thudding pulse in his ears.

“Right here, sweetheart.” The Grandmaster stepped into Loki’s field of vision as though emerging from a thick fog. He was radiant and gold against the misted background. He was the only thing in Loki’s line of sight that was in focus. He stood over Loki where he lay on the mat, a pleased smile playing across his painted face. Loki did not know what to do with himself. Should he stay where he was? Should he kneel? Should he make some show of gratitude and humility? But how to show his gratitude without overstepping his harshly taught boundaries? Luckily, he did not have to make up his mind, because the next moment the Grandmaster sat down on the mat next to him, his robes settling around him and brushing Loki’s bare skin like the softest snow.

“So, hmm, how are you feeling? Glad to be done with your little...heh...punishment?”

Loki’s head was spinning. He was utterly confused. When had this happened? His last memory was his climax with Kuuth and his two companions' tentacles squirming inside him. Had he passed out after that? Had he been drugged? Had the Grandmaster used his power on him?

He had been asked a question. “Yes, Grandmaster,” he said, simply because he knew that was the correct answer. A memory surfaced in his mind, something the Grandmaster had said on the day he found him in the hanger.

_I think you’ll thank me when you’re done._

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” Loki said at once, the words falling out of his mouth in his eagerness to prove he had learned his lesson. “Thank you for...helping me understand my place.”

The Grandmaster hummed, pleased with Loki’s response. He leaned over and unclipped Loki’s wrists and ankles. “Oh, you are so welcome sweetheart. I am always happy to help. I’m a giver, that’s what people always say about me. Sometimes I think I care, just, _too_ much, you know, hmm?”

Loki was glad the Grandmaster did not pause or expect a response to that outrageous statement. He just kept right on talking. “Now, Kuuth and his hive-ship made me a very generous offer for you. Very generous. I’m sure you’re flattered! They’re looking for a...what did he call it? A _brood-host_ and they loved you, they just _loved_ you Loki! They think you’re - ” he paused and booped the tip of Loki’s nose with his finger, “ - just perfect but I had to tell them no. I hope you’re not too disappointed? You did seem to enjoy yourself with them. Those tentacles can be so...mmm... _wriggly_ , am I right?”

“I want to stay with you, Grandmaster,” Loki blurted out, his stomach churning at the thought of being made into a _brood-host._ Whatever it was, it would not be good.

The Grandmaster petted Loki’s hair, stroking it back behind his ears. “Of course you do. Of _course_ you do sweetheart. And I just spent all that time training you. It would be a waste to just...heh...sell you off like that. I’m so glad I won’t have to. Because you belong here, don’t you? With me.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” Loki knew his lines. His mind was creaking back into gear. The long, timeless period of the box was over, and this was different. He needed to adapt. He could not just lie back and take it, he had to listen, to pay attention, to give the Grandmaster what he wanted. Loki blinked again. The darkness over his vision still stubbornly refused to clear. Everything but the Grandmaster himself was faded and blurred.

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. I knew a little time in the box would really turn things around for you, Loki. Did you enjoy yourself?”

Loki stumbled on that one. What was the correct answer? If he said yes, would he be inviting that experience on himself again? If he said no, would he be angering the Grandmaster? Loki's only goal was to avoid going back in the box again, and so he chose his words very carefully. “I would rather be with you, Grandmaster.”

The Grandmaster chuckled. “Of _course_ you would. And you’re going to get your wish, Loki, but I do have a few...heh…a few teensy little rules for you.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“The blindfold and the earplugs are going to stay on for now.”

Loki’s hand snapped up to his face, and he found that the Grandmaster was right. The blindfold was still wrapped over his eyes, and the soft plugs were still in his ears. Then how…

“It’s very clever, isn’t it?” The Grandmaster said, gently but firmly easing Loki’s hand away from the metallic cloth that covered his face. “It's a filter. You see what you’re allowed to see, and you hear what you’re allowed to hear. Just don’t worry about it! It’s going to help you...heh...help you to behave yourself, and I know you want to do that, isn't that right?”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

Now he knew the blindfold and earplugs were there, Loki’s blurred vision and distorted hearing made sense. The Grandmaster himself was crystal-clear, and his words came to Loki’s ears without the slightest barrier. When another person emerged from the fog, their image did not clear, it remained blurred and dark, and their voice was a low buzz. The object they held out to the Grandmaster only snapped into Loki’s focus when the Grandmaster took it. It was a glass full of shimmering gold liquid. The shadow backed away and melted back into the fog, leaving Loki alone with the Grandmaster. Although, they probably were not alone at all. They were probably surrounded by people, maybe still in the festival halls, but Loki was forbidden from seeing or hearing anything around him except what the Grandmaster wanted him to see and hear.

Loki went to rub his eyes but the metallic cloth was in his way.

The Grandmaster clicked his tongue and Loki snatched his hand away. He was not allowed to touch that. Should he apologize? He would not be put back in the box for such a simple mistake, would he? Better to be safe.

“I’m sorry, Grandmaster,” he said, hating the shake in his voice. “I wasn’t trying to take it off, I just…”

“Shhh.” The Grandmaster petted his hair again. “I know. It might take a little while to get used to, but I know you’re going to like it, Loki. It’s going to help you to focus on what’s important, hmm?”

“Yes, Grandmaster. Thank you.”

The Grandmaster hummed and sipped his drink, regarding Loki with a thoughtful gaze. “Well Loki, I’m glad this worked out so well for you. You know, it’s hard to believe but some people don’t like the box at all! They come out of there crying and begging, making a real _fuss_. All I try to do is help people, and it hurts my feelings when people don’t appreciate it.” He paused, and Loki leapt on his cue like a starving dog on a scrap of meat.

“I’m really very grateful to you, Grandmaster. You were right to...to put me in the box. It was what I needed to...to learn how to behave properly. Thank you.”

The Grandmaster beamed at him, and Loki felt a tiny seed of hope grow in his belly that he might yet get out of this. Now that he could talk he could use his strongest assets; his brain, his words, his ability to negotiate and persuade. He still could surface from this tide and walk away from it. The worst of it was over, and now he needed to smooth things over and bide his time.

“Good! That’s just _peachy_ , Loki! I knew the box was right for you. I have an instinct about these things. Now, I’ve got guests to entertain, so why don’t you just relax and do your part, hmm?”

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Loki said, before the words had fully registered. “My part, Grandmaster?”

The Grandmaster was already on his feet, the glass in his hand almost empty. “Entertainment, of course!” He made an expansive gesture at the room that Loki could not see. “Here,” he leaned down and tapped one finger on Loki’s lip. Automatically Loki opened his mouth, and the Grandmaster tipped the rest of his drink down Loki’s throat. It tingled on the way down, and almost at once Loki felt a wave of heat wash over him. He looked down at himself, seeing his own naked body laying on a soft velvet mat, golden cuffs on his wrists and ankles, a fine chain from one ankle cuff attached to a bolt in the center of the mat.

"Oh," he said, reality hitting him all at once. Perhaps he would not be walking away from this situation quite as easily as he had thought. He looked up, but the Grandmaster was already gone, a flicker of golden robes fading into the white noise beyond Loki’s limited circle of vision. The drink was having an effect already. Loki’s heart rate was increasing, his skin prickled, and sweat broke out on his brow. He was hot. A deep throb started in his belly and Loki’s muscles clenched involuntarily. He startled as he realized there was a plug in his ass, slick with lubricant.

"Oh," he said again, and took a deep, steadying breath. He could do this. This was better than the box, after all.

A tall shadow emerged from the wall of blurred static that surrounded him. It was a person, Loki was sure of that, but he was not allowed to see their form or their face. He reached for the blindfold again but stopped his hand before he could touch it. _No_. That wasn’t allowed.

The figure spoke, a deep buzzing sound that was no language Loki knew. The earplugs were blocking it. He was not allowed to hear, but he could still speak.

“I beg your pardon,” he said to the shadow looming over him, scrupulously polite, “But I cannot understand you.”

The shadow laughed, and another, even taller, broader shadow spawned beside it. They talked to each other, Loki looking blankly between them, until the taller one turned back to Loki, stepping onto the mat with him.

“Hands and knees,” it said, its voice rough and heavily filtered by the earplugs. Loki scrambled to obey before he even thought about it, taking the ordered position and waiting there, trembling. Had he obeyed fast enough? Would these guests be satisfied with his eagerness, with the entertainment that he provided? If not, he knew what awaited him.

The two shadowy figures moved around him, their voices a low buzz once more, not saying anything Loki needed to hear. The one behind him eased the plug out of his hole and lined itself up. The one at Loki’s head took a fistful of his hair and said, “Mouth open.” Loki did that too, and took a deep breath as his mouth was filled, his head tipped up and his throat open and receptive. The two creatures used him that way, pulling him backwards and forwards, pleasuring themselves until Loki tasted the sour spurt of seed on his tongue, and a moment later the pulse of the cock in his ass.

They seemed satisfied enough, walking away without another intelligible word, leaving Loki used and chained to his mat.

He was not left alone for long.

As much as he tried to squint into the blurred and shadowed room that surrounded him, he could not make out any details other than the occasional gold flash of the Grandmaster’s robe. The blindfold did not allow it, filtering his vision only to what the Grandmaster allowed him to see. The earplugs did the same, filtering out any words that he was not allowed to hear.

Shadows detached themselves from the fog, coming singly, in pairs or in groups. They spoke in garbled bursts of static until they gave Loki an order he needed to hear. Those words emerged from the distorted background, blending and merging like a nightmare Loki could not wake up from:

_lie down. kneel. bend over. mouth open. spread your legs. shut up. stop crying. suck it. wider. harder. spread. beg. on your knees. down._

When Loki could no longer obey, they slapped his face or spanked his ass until he was limp and gasping from pain and confusion. Then they would fuck him, over and over and over.

The heat from the golden drink only grew as the day wore on. Arousal squirmed in Loki’s belly, his cock heavy between his legs, leaking from the tip as he was used. Some of the shadow-people even touched him, taking his cock in their hidden hands and stroking him, coaxing urgent cries from his throat until he was eagerly pushing his hips back onto the member that pierced him. But he could not come, not matter how hard he tried, no matter how desperately he needed to.

By the time his visitors lessened, he was incoherent with arousal, laying face down on his mat, grinding his hips against the soft surface. His hands were flat on the mat by his head. He did not dare touch himself, knowing without being told that it was forbidden. A group of shadows surrounded him, watching and laughing, their voices buzzed like static in his ears as they mocked him and urged him on.

Loki sobbed when the golden vision of the Grandmaster bloomed through the surrounding fog. He was like the sun. His was the only face that Loki could see, and the only voice that he could hear. He stood before Loki’s wrung-out form, and Loki forced himself forward on his elbows, pressing his lips to the Grandmaster’s foot.

_Please, please, please._

“You’re a good little thing, Loki. So eager to please. You’ve done very well, haven't you? You...heh...you can come.”

Loki gasped and shuddered as his climax crashed over him. Hours of desperate arousal focused in on this one point, one single, intense pulse of pleasure that left him limp and gasping, unable to move.

"Thank you," he gasped, his forehead resting on the Grandmaster's foot, utterly exhausted.

The Grandmaster reached down and stroked Loki's hair. "Oh, you're very welcome, sweetheart. I just knew you were going to fit in here. This is where you belong, hmm?"

"Yes," Loki said. He was already sinking into sleep, sprawled out on the mat at his master's feet. "Yes. Yes. Thank you. This is where I belong. With you."

The shadows faded away and the Grandmaster filled Loki's mind, shining and golden and benevolent.

Loki was home.


	6. Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags are updated, Loki is having a bad, bad time.

Loki was allowed to rest on his mat for a few minutes, but well before he was ready he was prodded to stand up and walk. The blindfold and earplugs were not removed, so his escort was a buzzing, unfocused shadow. He staggered to the nearby room, was firmly ushered through the door and then locked in.

Trapped in his sphere of shadows and static, Loki explored the room with slow, cautious steps. Walls and furniture came into focus when he came within about six feet of them, so step by step the room revealed itself. It was comfortable, if garishly decorated, as everything seemed to be on Sakaar. There was a low bed, a table and chair and a roomy bathroom. A square of static on the far wall would not come into focus, no matter how close Loki stood to it. He tentatively touched it, feeling cool smooth glass under his fingertips, but it remained impenetrable to his eyes. It must be a window. Similar blurred and unfocused areas in the ceiling were either cameras or observation ports. Loki ignored them. There was nothing he could do about them, and the large shower stall in the bathroom was calling to his aching, abused body. He would have to shower with the blindfold on, but that was achievable. Taking it off did not even cross his mind.

He was not that stupid.

There was a large zig-zag shaped mirror hanging over the basin in the bathroom, but Loki did not look in it. He could do without seeing the evidence of his past hours written on his body. He headed straight for the shower. He had no clothes to remove, and the gold shackles he wore did not come off. The slender gold chain was still attached to one ankle, only now the other end was not connected to anything. Loki ignored that too. He just turned the water on and stepped under the spray, not even waiting for it to warm.

The shower was stocked with lotions and soaps, rich, creamy and scented of honey. Loki stared at the wall as he carefully washed himself from head to toe. He did not think about what he was washing off, nor did he think about the blindfold, the earplugs or shackles that he wore. Instead, he breathed in the scent of honey and thought of Frigga’s garden. He pictured the lovingly tended beds of blooming flowers bobbing and waving in the summer breeze, and the low hum of bees as they collected their pollen. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, steadying the blindfold with one hand and washing his hair with the other. It was only when every part of him had been washed twice over that he let the soap fall from his hand. It lay on the floor, ignored. Then, when he had nothing left to wash and nothing left to wash with, Loki leaned on the wall, turned his face directly up into the spray, and let the warm water rinse the salt from his face.

He came back to himself when the water shut off. Perhaps he had stayed still for too long. He twisted the knob but it would not start up again. It was time to move anyway. Loki conscientiously shut his eyes as he re-positioned the blindfold, making sure it was tight around his eyes, and the earplugs were secure in his ears. There were towels on an open rack, and on the shelves above a selection of loose, gauzy robes in various colors. Loki took one without looking at it and pulled it over his head. He had nothing else to wear, and even wearing clothes now felt like a luxury. The robe was surprisingly warm, the inside soft and comfortable. Loki wiped his hand over the blindfold again. The slightest touch of comfort was too much for him. He felt raw, scraped clean like the sea-bed after a storm, exposed down to the bedrock of his body and spirit. He needed to sleep, to actually sleep, not to pass out or be drugged into unconsciousness. If he could rest, surely he could reach some kind of equilibrium with everything that had happened.

Loki left the bathroom, his eyes already closing under the blindfold, the thought of sleep consuming him. Waiting for him, sprawled out on the low bed with his head propped up on one casual hand, was the Grandmaster.

Loki’s defenses slammed back up, his skin crawling, hackles on his neck prickling at the sight of the predator in his space.

_It’s not your space, you fool. It’s his. Everything here is his, you included._

“Grandmaster, I apologize for keeping you waiting. I...I did not know you were here! Please, forgive me.” Loki’s knees almost buckled under him and he grabbed the doorway to steady himself. How could he have missed the reality-bending pressure of the Grandmaster’s power? He must be more tired than he knew.

The Grandmaster swung his feet off the bed and strolled over to where Loki trembled.

“No, no,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. “You really needed that shower, hmm? You’ve been working so hard. So wonderful. Such a lovely thing. My guests just _adored_ you, yes they did! They already want you back, but I told them no, no, no, you have to let the poor thing sleep!” He chuckled, as though making a fine joke, but Loki heard the prompt under the laugh and responded accordingly.

“Thank you so much, Grandmaster. You are too kind to me.”

“I really am! But that’s...heh...that’s why I’m here! I have a teensy little gift for you. Lets call it a...hmm...reward?”

Something about the way he said ‘gift’ set Loki’s teeth on edge, but there was nothing he could do but allow himself to be guided to the bed. Loki would consider himself lucky if he was just going to get bent over, but something about that did not seem like the Grandmaster’s style. There was no audience, for one thing.

He was right. The Grandmaster produced a small vial of liquid from under his robe and held it up. Loki squinted at it. He could not bring it into focus as it spun and glimmered in the Grandmaster’s hand. Loki could not tell if it was the blindfold at work or if the liquid really was moving as thought it were alive.

“Here you go, drink it all down, sweetheart.” The Grandmaster popped the top off and raised it to Loki’s lips. Loki forced himself not to flinch away, but he could not help turning his head very slightly, enough that he could ask.

“Grandmaster, if I may. What...what is it?”

“Uh, uh, uh.” The Grandmaster tapped Loki’s nose with a gesture that managed to be both patronizing and threatening at the same time. “Don’t worry your pretty head, little Loki. Let me take care of you.”

The Grandmaster's power nudged Loki's senses and words echoed in his head.

_... a very generous offer for you...put you up for auction…a little time in the box…_

Loki opened his mouth and the Grandmaster tipped the vial down his throat.

“Good, There you go. That’s going to be so much better for you tomorrow. Maybe we can get rid of this...” he adjusted Loki's blindfold, twitching it into place and smoothing it over his eyes. "You've been so, so good with it, but I think we can do...heh...I think we can do something better, don't you?"

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” Loki forced himself to smile despite the crawling pit of anxiety in his belly.

The Grandmaster beamed at him. “You have such lovely manners, Loki. You're so polite. That’s just one of the reasons I...heh...I like you so much! Now, sleepytime for you! This will need some time to work. In you get.”

As though in a dream, Loki lay down on the low bed. The Grandmaster pulled the covers up over him, tucking him in with such a bizarre performance of tenderness and fussing that Loki simply did not know how to react. He just stared through the blindfold when the Grandmaster actually leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Sweet dreams now!” he called over his shoulder as he and his trailing robes swooshed out of the door. As soon as he had passed through it, the door vanished in a haze of static. Loki rubbed his eyes through the blindfold, feeling a headache coming on.

There was nothing he could do about it. Getting out of the bed the Grandmaster had just put him into would not be well received, even if was just to get a drink of cold water. With no other options, Loki closed his eyes, sure that he would lie awake all night twisting in a ball of stress and anxiety.

Within seconds, he was asleep.

His dreams were anything but sweet. They were nightmares of pain and torment. He was bound by the golden shackles, chained down in the dark, acid eating at his eyes and dripping down into his ears. His head pounded as though it would split like a ripe fruit. He fought to wake up, to rouse himself, but he was trapped in the nightmare, held underwater, drowning in pain as the tide washed over him and buried him.

He awoke with a start, clutching his head, pain throbbing through his every nerve. The disorienting motion blur outside his allowed sphere of vision seemed to swirl with color now, and he tasted bile in his throat. He stumbled to the bathroom, turned the cold tap on full and bathed his face and neck with cold water, gasping as the pain in his head eased a little.

When he was no longer in immediate danger of vomiting, Loki stood upright and leaned on the counter, his gaze falling on himself in the zig-zag mirror. He squinted at his broken reflection as it came into focus.

Something was wrong. He stepped back, horror crawling up his throat.

_No!_

The blindfold was gone, and his eyes were no longer his own. Instead of emerald green irises with deep, black pupils, Loki's eyes were pure, unbroken white.


	7. Bubble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, hope your weekends are all going well! Loki continues to have a bad time in this fic, hopefully it's not getting boring yet!

Loki staggered back. The mirror and his reflection faded into the fog that lived six feet away from in every direction. Loki curled his fingers and held his shaking hands before his mutilated eyes, dizzy with horror and panic. His thoughts skittered around his head like insects, wild and untamed. The only thing he could focus on was the urgent, immediate, desperate need to get away. He needed to escape before he lost anything more of himself.

He ran for the door. Or rather, he ran to where he remembered the door had been last night, but now the wall was smooth and unbroken. Loki stared at it, unable to comprehend what had happened. Had he been moved to a new room while he slept? A room with no door and no - he spun around, looking for the square of buzzing static where he had felt the window under his hands the night before. There was nothing there now, but with trembling fingers Loki reached out and touched the wall until he could feel slick glass.

The window was still there, just hidden. That meant the door was probably still there too. Loki took as deep a breath as he could manage and fought to stay in control of himself, to organize his thoughts and quell his panic.

It took some time, but Loki managed to find the seam of the door by brushing his hands over the smooth wall until the texture changed. It was locked, of course, but at least it was there.

With no other options and no way out, Loki sat on the bed. He pressed his back to the headboard and pulled his knees up to his chest. He could not trust his eyes. Whatever the blindfold had been doing to his vision was now happening to him inside his own head. Loki shut his eyes. He did not want to see his constrained view. The six-foot bubble was making him claustrophobic. His head ached and nausea churned in his belly.

His dream from the night before came back to him. He had dreamed acid was dripping in to his eyes, but he had dreamed of his ears being damaged too. He put his hands up to his ears and was unsurprised to find the earplugs gone.

His hearing had been altered, then. Loki could not trust his eyes or his ears. It seemed he could still trust what he could feel with his own hands, and probably what he could taste and smell too. Thinking of taste made his stomach growl. Despite everything, his body still had needs. He opened his eyes and walked the length of the room, scanning everything within his limited range of vision for any hint of food. There was a table, but it was empty. If there was a food delivery system Loki could not find it. He went to the bathroom and drank some water from the basin, but that seemed only to intensify his hunger.

Loki did not know how long he waited. He paced the room with his eyes shut, finding his way by touch and memorizing the layout. It was better that way. He would rather be utterly blind than have his vision controlled in this manner. The chain attached to his ankle dragged behind him, scraping on the tile floor. The sound of it followed him like a malevolent spirit, reminding him that he was trapped.

He tried not to wonder what came next. He had been in the Grandmaster’s box for weeks. He had been raped hundreds, probably thousands of times. He had been fed drugged gruel from the plug in his mouth and cleaned by the plug in his ass. Now, he was in a somewhat bigger box, but still he was utterly at the Grandmaster’s mercy.

Was there some greater purpose to his treatment, beyond punishment for his betrayal and a warning to others? Loki had no idea. The Grandmaster had had favorites before, pretty creatures who followed him around, silent and obedient. Loki had assumed that he bedded them, but now he was not so sure. Perhaps he only liked to toy with them, as he was toying with Loki now. Was he one of the Grandmaster’s favorites? Or was he something else? Had those others had their bodies altered, their eyes and ears changed? Had they been in the box before him? He just didn’t know.

Before Thor's arrival, Loki had tried his best to keep away from that side of the Grandmaster’s court. He had attended parties but left when they turned into orgies. He had known about the back rooms in the festival halls but he had never gone there. He had flirted when he had to, but he had avoided any liaisons. None of it had seemed relevant to his own survival, and he regretted his carelessness now. It was very relevant. Was Loki a favorite, or was he something else?

Occupied by such thoughts, Loki paced the room with his eyes shut. His stride lengthened and his pace increased as he learned the shape and size of the room. To challenge himself, he walked in and out of the bathroom and around the bed. He took himself from the bed to the chair, from the chair to where he knew the door was, memorizing every route by touch. His vision belonged to the Grandmaster now, but Loki refused to be cowed by it.

_ I will not be tamed. _

The box had not tamed him, he told himself. It had, perhaps, disciplined him somewhat. Loki had no desire to be put back inside it, and he would behave as he had to, to avoid that fate. He did not think about what had been done to him during his time in the box. His body healed, and the rest didn’t matter.

Loki was walking from the bed to the door when a slight movement of the air warned him that something had changed. It was too late to stop, though, and on his next step he collided with something solid that had not been there before. His eyes snapped open and he saw the Grandmaster looking at him, a slight frown on his face.

“Grandmaster!” Loki frantically searched his mind for an appropriate way to great him. As always he was on his back foot with this being. He acted as though motivated only by whimsy, but his true power was unimaginable. The pressure of it was a storm front bearing down on Loki, squeezing his brain between his ears, forcing out rational thought.

“Um…hey there. Quick question. Why are you walking up and down...heh... with your eyes closed?”

Loki searched his mind for an inoffensive explanation. The Grandmaster stared at him with his piercing grey eyes, as though penetrating his very thoughts.  _ He likes your manners,  _ Loki told himself, trying to force himself to speak.  _ Be polite. _

“Grandmaster, first let me say how grateful I am that you got rid of the blindfold. This” - he waved his hands at his white eyes - “is so much...easier.”

The Grandmaster immediately beamed, his mood changing as though a switch was flipped. “Do you really think so Loki? I am so glad. I was a teensy bit worried you would be upset. Your eyes were so, so pretty. Green like...mmm...like heliotrope. But you’re just as pretty now! Don’t you worry, sweetheart.”

Loki forced himself to smile. Obviously, his attractiveness had been the least of his concerns when he had seen his mutilated eyes, but he allowed the Grandmaster to believe he had reassured him.

“Thank you Grandmaster. It’s just that - and I am not complaining, of course - it’s just that it takes a little getting used to, that's all. I was getting dizzy.”

The Grandmaster rearranged his face into a look of concern. He brushed Loki’s hair back from his face and stared into his eyes. Loki wanted to pull away, but he did not dare. He could see the depths of the universe in the elder’s eyes, and it drew him down like a deep, dark ocean. Loki gasped as his range of vision expanded, the bubble expanding to at least fifteen feet. He could see both sides of the room at once, the floor and the ceiling as well. Relief flooded him as the claustrophobia receded. His heart rate slowed and the knots of tension in his shoulders relaxed. He had not been aware of how deeply his restricted vision had affected him until the Grandmaster had given him that relief.

“Thank you, Grandmaster!” A small, inner part of Loki cringed at the genuine gratitude in his voice.  _ He’s the one who did this to you in the first place!  _ But Loki couldn’t help it; he  _ was  _ grateful. He may as well use what genuine emotion he could dredge up to appease his captor.

“Better, hmm? That's wonderful, just peachy. Now, come along, sweetheart. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you!”

The Grandmaster picked up the chain attached to Loki’s ankle and swept out of the room. Loki was forced to trot along behind him like a dog, if he did not wish to be dragged like a slave.

“A busy day, Grandmaster?” he dared to ask as they walked down hallways and through garishly decorated rooms. They passed the shadows of people that Loki was not allowed to see as they walked. Just as he had thought, Loki’s ears were modified as well. Any snippets of conversation from those they passed turned into blank white noise.

“Mmm, indeed, very busy! Oh, silly me, you won’t need that.” They stopped in the middle of the passageway and the Grandmaster tugged at Loki’s robe. Loki froze, unsure if he was expected to just strip right here and now.

_ What are you worried about? It’s not as though half the people here haven't already had you. _

Loki steeled himself and pulled the robe off. He let it fall from his hand as though he cared nothing about it, and stood naked in the hallway. He forced himself not to attempt to cover himself with his hands. There was no point. Everyone here had seen everything he had to offer already. Shame had no survival value at this point, and so he crushed it down. If he had the chance, he would deal with it later.

“Beautiful! Let’s go!”

Loki followed the Grandmaster into a large open room, which was their final destination. It was large enough that he could not see the walls or the ceiling, only his expanded bubble. It was only as the Grandmaster led him onward that Loki realized with a lurch of anxiety they were in an amphitheater. Broad, shallow steps led down to a central arena, and Loki knew that that would be where the Grandmaster was taking him. He stopped, his feet simply unable to move forward until he knew what awaited him at the bottom of the steps. The steps faded out ahead of him, blurred and fuzzy at the limits of his vision. It was as though he was walking into fog. The chain tugged on his ankle, and the Grandmaster paused, looking back at him with a quizzical expression.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Loki tried to speak past the lump in his throat. There was something at the bottom of these steps that he did not want to face. He knew that much. His legs shook, and his weeks in the box came back to him in a rush; humiliation and helplessness, pain and suffocation. Weak knees folded under him and Loki fell down the next step, tumbling onto his hands, bile in his throat, panic clouding his thoughts.

‘Grandmaster, please,” he managed to force out, his voice a bare whisper. He was ready to beg, if he thought it would do the slightest bit of good, if he thought the Grandmaster capable of mercy. If the box was waiting for him at the bottom of these steps, Loki knew he would pass out the moment he saw it, and when he woke he would be locked inside it again. He would be destroyed by it, erased and annihilated, turned back into nothing, into a plaything to be used and discarded. He needed to survive, and his every instinct told him that he could not survive that. Not a second time. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything else but not that. I beg you.”

A gentle look of concern formed on the Grandmaster’s face, and he drew Loki back to his feet, his hands powerful and irresistible. He wiped the tears from Loki’s face with his thumbs. “Anything but what, sweetheart?”

“The box, Grandmaster,” Loki said, hunching down into himself, fear curling through his belly. He was giving too much away. He was losing control and he was going to pay for it later.

Fierce satisfaction flashed over the Grandmaster's face, and a moment later it was gone. “Well...heh...well I didn’t know you felt that way Loki! But it’s no problem. No problem at all, Anything you want sweetheart. No box for you! Not today. Come along with me.”

Loki had no choice but to stumble after him. 'Not today' was not the reassurance he had wanted, but it was all he was going to get.

At the bottom of the steps was a shallow, circular pit, a fighting arena with a sprung, padded floor. That was no surprise, but it was what was at the very center that pierced Loki’s mind. A raised platform hung with gauzy fabric. It was a bed.

“What…”

The Grandmaster turned and tapped Loki’s lips with one finger. The twinkle in his eye was almost gone. “Nuh uh. You wanted me to fix your eyes, and I did. You wanted no box today, and I gave you that. You’re not going to be difficult about this too, are you?”

Loki hung his head. He had pushed too far, and he was in danger of angering his only protector in his hellish place. “No, Grandmaster.”

“Good!” The bright smile was instantly back. Before Loki knew it his chain was locked to a bolt at the foot of the bed. “Now, you lie down darling. You don’t even have to do much except look as pretty as you are!”

Numb with despair, Loki lay down. He allowed the Grandmaster to arrange his limbs in what he assumed was a seductive pose. Satisfied with Loki's position, the Grandmaster then laid a translucent cloth over him, covering him completely from head to toe. His shape and outline would be visible, but everything else would be softened and partially hidden.

“Perfect. You’re going to be the prize, Sweetheart! Isn't that fun?”

Loki looked up through the cloth. The Grandmaster’s face was blurred and indistinct, just like everything else with his altered eyes. Loki felt he was losing his grip on everything solid in his life. Everything was falling and he too would be swept away by this tide. He hoped the cloth hid his helpless tears.

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“Oh, wait...heh...I nearly forgot!” The flimsy cloth was lifted and with a quick, hard shove a lubricated plug was pushed inside Loki’s hole.

Loki winced at the rough stretch but he knew better than to move. He would only be rearranged again if he did, and he would rather the Grandmaster touched him as little as possible.

“Better?”

Loki was not so far gone that he didn’t hear his cue. “Yes. Thank you, Grandmaster. You are very kind to think of my comfort.”

“Good, good.” The Grandmaster rubbed his hands together. “You wait there. I expect the games will begin in a few hours. And well, once I declare the victor they'll claim the prize! Which is you!" The Grandmaster touched his finger to the tip of Loki's nose. "That’s the highlight, and I’m sure you’re just as excited about it as I am!

Without waiting for a reply, the Grandmaster turned and headed back up the stairs, vanishing into the fog of Loki's altered vision. Behind him, in the center of the arena, Loki lay on the prize-bed, naked, bound and plugged, waiting to be claimed.


	8. Prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, if you've made it this far! Loki is still having a bad time, tags are updated!

Over the next hour the arena filled up with shadowy figures, talking in distorted, incomprehensible voices. Loki could only see the first few rows, and he was glad of it because being ogled by these faceless creatures was beyond unsettling. Over and over, Loki blinked and tried to clear his vision, even though he knew it was useless. The only person he could see clearly was the Grandmaster, perched on his raised throne. Loki knew he was his captor, his torturer, the one who had mutilated his eyes and ears, he still could not help but stare up at him. He was in perfect focus, clear and precise in the world surrounded by shadows. Loki was drawn to him like a lodestone, a still point in his ever-shifting, uncertain world.

_That's why he did this to you - to make you dependent on him._

Loki shut out such thoughts with savage fury. Logic would not help him here; survival was the only thing that mattered, and to survive he had to play by the Grandmaster’s rules. He could do it. The Grandmaster would toy with him for a while but surely he would get bored. When that happened Loki would have a chance to flee. He told himself that it was possible. Thor had left Saakar, after all. It was possible to escape.

_How are you going to flee when you can’t see anything but him and you can’t hear anything but your next order? Thor had friends and allies and you have nothing and no one._

Before he could allow that thought to take root, the preliminaries were called. Loki allowed himself to be distracted by the fighters parading around the arena. He couldn’t see them, of course, but they could see him, laid out on the prize-bed - their victory reward. Loki stayed in place as the misshapen shadows marched past. He did not allow his face to show any emotion.

The fighters were big, Loki could tell that much. The shadowed figures were broad and tall, walking with the clank and grind of metal and the thud of weighty armor-clad footsteps. By the end of this spectacle, one of them would have won the right to fuck Loki in front of the assembled spectators, and he was sure they would make a show of it. He tried to prepare himself for the upcoming humiliation, but when the three fighters took their positions and the battle flag was dropped, the reality turned out to be far worse than Loki had imagined.

Loki was the prize, it was true, but he was not a prize to be awarded at the end of the bout. He was a prize to be taken and claimed in battle.

Within moments, the gauzy fabric was ripped off his bed. The first fighter grabbed him around the waist, hauling him up and over an armor-plated shoulder. Loki’s fingernails scratched on what felt like reptile-leather as he fought back, scratching and kicking, instinct taking over. Steel clashed and the creature in the reptile-leather staggered. Loki was dragged out of its hold and tossed back on the bed. He fell face-down and the plug was unceremoniously yanked out of his hole. He cried at the pain, even though he knew far worse pain was to come. His legs were kicked apart but the creature behind him was tackled away before it could lay its claim.

Loki rolled off the bed and crouched by the side of it, the chain on his ankle preventing him from finding any better cover. The two remaining fighters seemed occupied with each other. Loki could hear the clash and grunts of battle around him, but with his limited vision he could not make out any detail. He looked up into the stands, instead. The Grandmaster was staring straight at him, and even gave Loki a cheery wave of his fingers as he sipped from a delicate glass.

Loki would get no help there.

A creature staggered back into his line of sight and fell to the ground, blood gushing from its gut. The bright, coppery stink of it was overwhelming for a moment until Loki realized that he could actually see the creature - it was a reptile with four arms and dull, heavily scratched armor.

_I can see it because it's dead._

Blood thundering in his ears, Loki darted out to the corpse and searched for a weapon, finding a knife in its boot. He took it and turned to run back to the meager shelter of the bed. Before he got there he was tackled to the ground from behind.

The final shadow creature panted in Loki's ear and clamped a furred arm around his neck, cutting off his air. Loki was forced down. The creature was twice his weight, and although Loki struggled and squirmed under it, the thing succeeded in spreading his legs and forcing itself inside him. A great cheer went up from the crowd even as Loki screamed out his last lungful of air. The creature’s cock was huge and ridged, and it felt like it was coring him where he lay.

Blindly, Loki stabbed backwards with the knife. Warm blood ran over his hand, but the creature did not release its hold. Instead it punched Loki in the head with an armored fist, hard. Loki's ears rang and the arena spun around him. The knife fell from his numb fingers, and was lost.

The creature growled and fucked him, its monster-cock heaving inside him, splitting him open as it claimed him. Loki sobbed in pain and humiliation. He was pinned down and there was nothing he could do to stop this thing from using him. The audience cheered and howled as the creature’s voice buzzed in his ear, the words hidden but the triumphant tone clear. It was mocking him as it raped him.

Loki’s mind faded, and he fought to stay conscious. This was a nightmare. It was a horrifying, torturous fever dream. He was naked and fought over by huge, savage shadow creatures. He was pinned to the bloody floor and raped before a howling audience he could not see. Surely, this could not be real?

But it _was_ real, and the creature on Loki's back finished with a series of brutal thrusts, the final one accompanied by a triumphant roar of victory. Warm seed leaked onto Loki’s thighs and the creature released its grip around his neck, at least allowing him to breathe. Loki lay still, hoping the thing was done with him, but it didn’t get off. The crowd, if anything, grew more electrified, muttering and excited, and Loki dizzily wondered what further humiliation was in store for him that day.

A moment later he found out. The creature rolled its hips and Loki moaned aloud as he felt its already huge cock swell inside him. Sharp claws dug into Loki's shoulders as he was held in place, the creature fucking him with sharp shallow thrusts. As it pumped, its cock grew and Loki was stretched and distended around it.

_Oh Norns, it’s knotting me!_

Loki _did_ want to pass out then, or if not pass out he wanted to throw up. His hole burned and his guts churned, his whole body was stuffed and tight. The thing inside him filled him completely. He was sure his belly would be bulging as the creature pumped his hips a few more times and the knot grew. Loki’s face was wet with tears, his fingernails dug into the padded arena floor, but there was nothing he could do but endure it.

Loki didn’t know how long they lay there. It could not have been very long, surely, for the crowd was still cheering when the victor decided it had had enough. It hooked an arm around Loki’s waist and stood up. Loki screamed as he was dragged up too, the knot in his guts locking them together. The creature was so tall that Loki's feet dangled off the ground and he hung there, suspended on the creature’s cock, held up by that and the arm around his belly. The crowd went wild. The creature paraded around the ring, bouncing Loki on its cock with every step as he sobbed and writhed in pain and humiliation.

They stopped before the Grandmaster’s platform, and Loki was forced to look up and see his tormentor smiling down at him.

“Oh wonderful, just...heh...just wonderful Loki! When you took the knife - that was adorable!” The Grandmaster clapped and the crowd followed his lead, giving Loki’s spirited performance a round of polite applause. “I knew you would be perfect for this! What a show! Congratulations to Commander Lennesshar on a fine victory and a fine prize-taking! Well done both of you!”

The creature impaling Loki, Commander Lennesshar, bowed, forcing Loki to bend double, compressing his guts until Loki thought he would literally burst. Loki had no breath to speak and all he could do was whimper helplessly. Lennesshar said something incomprehensible and the Grandmaster and the crowd laughed in response. Loki had no doubt it was some mockery at his expense, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was having enough trouble just filling his lungs with air.

“Yes, yes, I take your point,” The Grandmaster said, stroking his chin with one hand. “Well alright, why don’t you take him with you and...heh...bring him back when you’re done, hmm?”

Loki sobbed in agony as Lennesshar bowed again, then he was paraded around the arena again, slowly this time. Lennesshar was strong. He held Loki easily in one arm, taking his weight and ensuring the knot did not tear loose. _That_ was a thought that terrified Loki more than any other, at least at this moment in time.

As they walked their victory lap, Lennesshar paused frequently and allowed the front row of spectators to play with Loki, to pinch his nipples and tug on his limp cock. He pulled him up a few, tortuous inches for people to admire the size of the knot he was stuffed with.

At last, their circuit was complete and Lennesshar bowed to the crowd one final, cursed time. Loki caught a last glimpse of the Grandmaster sitting high in the stands before Lennesshar turned and carried him through the combatants door, still impaled on his knotted cock, and took him away.


	9. Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this one is not as bad as the last one? It's not GOOD, for sure, we're still not at any actual COMFORT, but it's a step back from 'raped in a pool of blood in an arena in front of an audience while everyone cheers at your humiliation', so that's something. 
> 
> Once again, if you're still with me, thank you for reading!

Lennesshar had a transport waiting under the arena, and he sat in the back with Loki on his lap as it whisked them away. He idly toyed with his prize as they zipped through tunnels and crowded roadways, twisting Loki's nipples and pressing on his distended belly to feel himself inside.

Loki tried to keep track of their journey, but his limited vision and the recent blow to his head made it impossible. Everything outside the transport was just a fast-moving blur. Even inside the vehicle, the huge form of the commander behind him was still an obscured shadow.

Lennesshar did not talk to Loki. Perhaps he did not consider him worthy of talking to. He had no need to give him orders, after all, not when he could just force him to submit through brute strength. Loki decided he had nothing to lose by trying to change his mind.

“Commander.” Loki tried to speak respectfully despite the overwhelming urge to scream, and despite the knot pressing up against his internal organs. “Please, I can pay you. I have friends, family, who will pay for my return. My brother is Prince Thor of Asgard, he…”

Lennesshar growled and pinched both of Loki’s nipples, twisting them in what must be claws until he cried out in pain and shut up. Lennesshar didn’t even bother to reply. He just gripped Loki’s hips and lifted him up a few inches, the knot shifting in his guts, and then let him fall back down, slamming him on his cock over and over until he was sobbing. Lennesshar found the right angle for the dammed knot to rub Loki's insides in a way that made him recoil from his own body, despair flooding him.

He did _not_ enjoy this. He refused to enjoy it, but once Lennesshar noticed the slight filling of Loki’s cock he was merciless. He worked Loki up and down until he was red faced and furious with shame and humiliation, his cock leaking in the commander’s clawed hand. Hot breath and distorted whispers growled into his ear, the tone eager and triumphant. Perched on the creature’s lap, facing away from him, Loki had no leverage - there was nothing to hold onto but empty air. He could not resist.

Lennesshar gripped Loki's throat, claws prickling his skin, and casually throttled him as he fucked him. Loki grabbed his arm with both hands, trying to pull it away, but it didn’t move a single inch. The creature’s other hand pumped Loki’s cock and Loki knew with a despairing sob that he was going to come. Just as had happened when Kuuth and his friends had tentacle-fucked him in the box, Loki's body was going to betray him again and force him to enjoy this debasement.

_What is wrong with me?_

Loki came with a sobbing moan, his cock pulsing into Lennesshar’s fist. The commander bounced him a final few times on his knot another wave of warm, sticky semen slid down his thighs.

Loki felt like a doll when Lenneshar lifted him out of the transport. He hung limply over his captor’s arm, still impaled on the knot, weak from his own unwanted climax. He forced himself to raise his head and see where they were. His interest awakened when he realized they were on a ship. He could tell that much from the angle of the ramp they had driven up, and the sudden change in lighting and air circulation.

A ship. Lennesshar had a ship. Loki tried to force himself to think. A ship meant opportunities, and if Loki had had a single spare moment to recover, his mind would have been spinning on his options.

But, of course, he was not given a chance to recover.

It was not far to their next destination, but to Loki it could have been a thousand miles. Each step was torment as the commander’s fat knot rubbed at his tender hole, making sure he did not forget for a moment that he was utterly owned and dominated. Loki was sure he was crying, but he was too far gone to even think about it. He had not been fed all day, and he didn’t know what time it was now. He was dizzy, the savage blow to his head from the arena still rang in his ears. His body felt alien to him, as though it were an ill-fitting glove.

Everything hurt, and nobody cared. Loki wiped his eyes, fury at his own self-pity warring with shame and humiliation at his predicament. He squeezed his eyes closed, wishing - like a child - that he could open them and this would not be happening to him. That he could go back in time to the spacecraft hanger and decide _not_ to slip away from his brother. Compared to this punishment, the casual disrespect Thor subjected him to was nothing. He would be glad to submit to it now. If Thor came back, Loki would not hesitate to kneel and swear his undying fealty to his king.

_He’s not coming back. He left you behind and he’s never coming back for you._

Loki refused to think about it. He blocked it out of his mind. It was irrelevant to him now. Now, he just needed to survive.

Lennesshar entered a room that Loki could not see the other side of. There was an arrangement of long couches around a cold-burning fire, and Lennesshar reclined on the furthest couch, facing the door that Loki could not longer see. The limitation on his vision was a constant reminder of his status. That, and the creature’s knot in his ass. Loki almost smiled at the idea that he could possibly forget for a single moment what he had been reduced to. He would never forget. If he ever had another chance to prove himself, he would not throw it away.

A few of the Lennesshar's crew joined them, hulking shadows lounging on couches, and a conversation began. Loki was ignored, sitting astride his captor's lap. It was hard for him to concentrate. He longed for nothing but to drift away, to close his eyes and lean back against Lennesshar’s armored chest and just...stop. He kept quiet and tried to gather his thoughts, to pull his unraveled mind back into his head by force of will alone, and see if he could help himself.

He could not see the creatures he was surrounded by, or hear their voices, but he still could made observations. The couches were large, and the ceiling was high. Lennesshar was big and so were his crew. His arm, still wrapped around Loki’s waist, tickled his skin with fur. His fingers ended in claws. The lurching prowl of his gait, combined with the fur and the knot made Loki wrack his brain for a species that took the form of a huge, upright wolf, but he could think of none.

He was outside the nine-realms, and his years of education had focused on that small part of the universe to the exclusion of all else. The cosmos was far, far bigger than the reach even of Odin’s arm, and Loki was small and insignificant here. The name of Odinson had no influence, and even Asgard itself, when it had been at the height of its power, had been nothing but a small speck on a very big map.

Loki’s rambling train of thought was derailed when something was thrust into his hands. He took it on instinct and was surprised to find himself holding a cup filled with what looked like water. The cup was big, and he had to hold it with both hands. He sniffed it cautiously, his mouth suddenly dry and his throat parched. Lennesshar rolled his hips and Loki nearly dropped the cup. The creatures surrounding him laughed, and Lennesshar laughed too, but then he said something in Loki’s ear in a low tone. Despite the distortion of his voice Loki could tell it was not mockery. Not this time.

“I beg your pardon,” Loki said, minding his manners carefully, given his delicate situation. “I can only understand you if you...if you give me a direct order.” He hung his head as he forced the words out. The Grandmaster had made it very obvious what Loki was for, and it was not for conversation.

Lennesshar’s huge hand covered Loki’s smaller ones and he pushed the cup up towards Loki’s mouth.

“Drink it, little pup.” His voice, when he gave his order, was a deep, bass growl. The hair stood up on the back of Loki’s neck and he shuddered, that voice awakening ancestral memories of moonlight and snow covered hills, of howling and hunting.

Lennesshar laughed again, but he steadied the cup for Loki despite his amusement. Not foolish enough to waste the chance, Loki recovered himself and drank. The water was cold and clear, refreshing and invigorating, and instantly Loki felt better. He still was in pain, still helpless and spread on the commander's knot, his ass sore and stretched, but it helped.

“Thank you, Commander.”

Another chuckling growl in his ear and then something else was shoved into his hands with another order. “Eat it.”

Loki was only too glad to eat the unidentifiable meat he was given, even though it was on the bone and clearly already had tooth marks in it. He would eat his captors scraps and thank them for it, if that was what he had to do to be allowed food.

When he was done, Lennesshar accepted his thanks by way of two hands gripping his hips, clawed fingers pressing into deep bruises. The cup spun out of Loki's hands and crashed to the ground as Lennesshar dragged him up and down, taking his pleasure. Thankfully, he did not not force Loki to climax this time, instead he just thrust into him until his chest rumbled and another surge of his seed pumped into Loki’s belly.

Loki was kept on the commander’s lap all that night. He used him several more times, otherwise he ignored him as he talked with his crew. The smell of liquor and intoxicating smoke filled the room, making Loki even more disoriented than he already was.

At one point, the commander described the battle where he had won Loki. At least, Loki assumed that’s what he was doing, because he made dramatic stabbing motions and then bent Loki forward on his lap and used him yet again. His thighs were sticky and his guts churned, but this time, it seemed, was the last. Although he kept Loki on his lap, the knot started to deflate, shrinking and reducing until Loki was once more sitting on the sizeable cock that Lennesshar had started with. Loki tried not to squirm. The minimal lubricant from the plug that the Grandmaster had prepared him with was long gone, and every movement dragged on sore, raw flesh.

One by one the crew left. When they were alone, Lennesshar finally, finally lifted Loki off his cock, pulling all the way out of him and leaving him gaping and empty, his muscles stretched and aching. The commander picked him up easily in one arm, holding him to his chest like a child. Loki was so exhausted that he leaned into it. He sleepily realized that Lennesshar had removed his armor at some point and was holding him against his furred chest. Once again, Loki wondered what species Lennesshar was, but he was too tired to ponder it. He was laid on a soft surface, and was asleep in minutes.


	10. Aclla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you all like the big wolf-man, do you?? Me too!! Here's some more.

It was warm. Warm, and comfortable, and somehow safe. Loki let himself drift, deliberately ignoring the part of his brain that was wildly signalling for him to wake up, that he was in danger, that he needed to run or fight. He knew it was true, but he was bone-tired, and the warmth and comfort was like a drug clouding his senses.

_Wake up you fool! You are not lost yet!_

Reluctantly , Loki opened his eyes. He saw what he expected to see - the blurred and dizzying limits of his curtailed vision a dozen feet away from his eyes. What he did _not_ expect was the distorted and shadowed figure lying next to him, one fur-tickling arm thrown over his shoulders and pinning him to the bed.

It was Lennesshar.

Loki could smell him. He had spent the entire day sitting on the commander's cock, and he knew the dark, smoky scent of him, like the aftermath of a pine-forest fire.

Smell was Loki's most reliable sense now. He avoided thinking about why that was - that the Grandmaster had essentially blinded and deafened him. He only allowed himself to think about the current moment. He was so limited. He could not see Lennesshar’s face. He could not see if he was awake or asleep. He could not hear his words, judge his mood, try to please him or at least avoid angering him.

_Why do you care? He doesn’t want you. He just wanted a warm body to fuck. He’s going to give you back and never think about you again._

Loki lay still, staring blindly at the portion of the wall that he could see. It was true. Lennesshar had won him in the arena and he had thoroughly enjoyed his prize. Loki told himself that it meant nothing that the commander slept next to him, that he had fed him and given him water. He knew was so starved for affection and so desperate for even the illusion of safety that he was willing to find meaning in any meaningless gesture. Lennesshar was no savior. He had killed two others in the arena and had raped and knotted Loki on the bloody floor before a cheering crowd. He had strangled him, punched him in the head, paraded him before his crew. He had forced Loki to come against his will, made him sit on his cock all night and filled him with his seed over and over.

_He could have done worse than that. He could have given you to his crew. He could have torn you open on his knot. He could have let you go hungry and thirsty. He could have tossed you back to the Grandmaster as soon as he was done with you, instead of letting you sleep in his arms._

Loki’s spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Lennesshar himself. The arm around Loki’s shoulders tightened and he was dragged back against the commander’s furred chest. Loki could not help himself. - his instinct was to talk his way out of trouble and although he knew that would not work on the Grandmaster, perhaps it would work on Lennesshar.

“Commander...” Loki tried to make his voice seductive, contented, and he stretched himself out, hiding his wince as his tender flesh was forced to move. Not to put too fine a point on it, his ass was raw agony. Lennesshar growled at him, not muffled words this time, just a flat growl that made the hair stand up on Loki’s neck.

“Call me _Aclla_ , little pup.” The allspeak did its best to translate that word. It was clearly something specific to Lennesshar’s world and culture. The closest Loki could approximate was a blend of ‘owner’ and ‘father’ and Loki flushed red as he forced himself to say it.

“Aclla, may I...” Lennesshar growled again and snuffled at Loki’s neck, whiskers and sharp teeth next to his jugular. Loki's words trailed off and he lay still, not daring to breathe while the creature scented him.

“Hands and knees.” Lennesshar ordered. Obviously, he had decided that Loki’s attempt at conversion was over. Before Loki could obey, he rolled him over and dragged him up, claws digging into his hips. He positioned Loki just as he wanted him - on all fours, ready to be taken.

Loki swallowed and gripped the soft pad beneath him.

This was going to hurt.

He tried to stay still, to stay in position, but his breath was already coming fast, and the anticipation of pain made his heart pump too fast and his lungs struggle to fill. When Lennesshar leaned his weight on Loki's back, his braced arms trembled and folded under him.

Lennesshar growled, and Loki sobbed and tried to push himself back up, but the commander had one clawed hand between Loki’s shoulder blades, holding him down. Loki smelled oil, heard the rough squelching sound of Lennesshar slicking up his cock, and hoped that perhaps, perhaps the oil would be enough.

_If he knots you again, you’re going to split open like a ripe peach._

Loki gasped, dizzy with horror at the thought of it. If he was injured like that, he could not reach his magic to heal himself quickly and he would not get a chance to recover slowly. Either the Grandmaster would make some further modifications to his body to make him fit for use again, or he would toss him aside. Loki had no idea which option was worse. He did not know here the Grandmaster’s used-up whores went, but he doubted it was anywhere pleasant.

“Aclla,” he gasped, knowing the risk of speaking when Lennesshar had made it clear that morning that he didn’t care for it. “Aclla, please! Don’t…”

Lennesshar moved his hand to the back of Loki’s head, shoving his face into the soft mat beneath them. He was going to do whatever he wanted, and there was nothing Loki could do about it. In that moment Loki felt the dark tide sweep over him. He went limp, eyes glazed and staring at nothing. He could not not hold himself together. He felt like grains of sand being washed away one by one, and he wept into his arms as he waited for his captor to rape him.

He didn't though.

It took Loki a long time to realize that Lennesshar was crouched over him, working his own cock in his fist. It was only a few minutes until he came with a low, rumbling growl and spent his seed all over Loki’s ass and lower back. He grunted in satisfaction and rubbed the sticky substance into Loki's skin with both hands. When Loki's back was covered, Lennesshar flipped him over and sat on him, rubbing his rough, paw-like hands over Loki’s chest and belly too.

Loki just lay there, spent of tears, and let him do it. There was nothing he could do to stop him, and anyway, Loki would rather be smeared with the commander's sticky seed than split on his knot. Loki tried to cover his eyes with his arm, but Lennesshar pulled it away at once, growling and snapping his teeth in Loki’s face.

When he had combed his claws through Loki’s hair, and then rubbed his hands once more over his entire body, front and back, Lennesshar seemed satisfied with Loki’s condition. He pulled Loki to his feet, one huge hand around his wrist, and walked him out the door.

Loki stumbled after him, half-blind, disorientated and numb from exhausted fear. He noticed for the first time that the chain around his ankle was still there, dragging behind him with a sharp clatter, a skittering reminder of his status in this place, as if he could forget it.

Lennesshar dragged him into a large room, full of looming shadows. They walked right down the center of the room. As they walked, Lennesshar held Loki's arm up, letting everyone see his filthy and well-used condition. The crowd laughed and cheered as they passed. Those closest even sniffed at him, making gulping, snuffling noises that Loki could hear even over the noise.

 _This is the mess-hall,_ Loki realized, as Lennesshar reached the head table and sat down. He picked Loki up and put him on his well-muscled knee, one massive arm curled around his waist.

A cup of water was shoved into Loki's hands and he drank from it, both hands wrapped around the over-sized cup.

“Thank you, Aclla,” he said, his voice a low whisper. It was not low enough, however, because the shadows nearest the commander heard him and cheered again. A moment later, a bowl of creamy stew was put on the table in front of him.

Lennesshar growled in his ear. “Eat it, little pup, and thank me again, louder this time.”

Loki took the bowl. His stomach growled and his mouth watered. He lifted the bowl to his mouth with a pathetic whimper, but Lennesshar put one finger on his wrist and effortlessly held him back. The commander's chest rumbled with a growl too low to be audible, and Loki gave in.

Loki looked up at where Lennesshar’s face would be, if he could see anything but a distorted shadow. The room was quiet, as though the crew was waiting for him to do as he had been ordered. Loki spoke in his most humble and grateful voice. “Thank you, Aclla.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and laughter. Lennesshar spilled a good portion of Loki's stew in his lap as he crushed him under his arm.

Loki found he didn't care about the stew. He leaned into Lennesshar's embrace, and let his head rest on his furred shoulder.

Loki knew Lennesshar cared nothing for him. Any comfort he felt was pitiful self-deception, but it was all he had. It would do for now.


	11. Returned

Loki was not allowed to wash after breakfast. Instead, he was led with dragging feet back to the transport where Lennesshar sat with him on his lap. Loki could feel the trap closing on him as they drove. He could not keep still, shifting on Lennesshar’s knee until he impatiently dumped Loki off his lap and onto the floor of the vehicle. The shadow of the Grandmaster’s tower fell over them as they approached his stronghold, casting a chill in the air, and Loki could not stop himself from pleading with the shadowy figure of the commander.

“Aclla, please, I will be good for you. I will be obedient. Anything you want of me, you can have.” The closer they came to the Grandmaster, the faster the words fell out of Loki’s desperate lips. “Anything, Aclla. You can knot me every night. You can use my mouth. I will do whatever you want if you keep me. Please, please, please, I beg you!”

Loki's voice cracked and his chest heaved, tears stinging his eyes. He was closer to his breaking point than he had ever been. Even with Thanos, in the clutches of his torturous children, Loki had known he had value, that he had a purpose. He could have been killed, but he would not have been utterly annihilated and destroyed. This was different. The Grandmaster could tear Loki’s atoms to shreds and scatter them across the Galaxy, but even worse was the possibility that he _wouldn't._ He could hollow Loki out, strip him of everything that made him a person, and turn him into an empty-eyed doll, an automaton who did not even remember how to scream.

Loki did not fear death. He feared being buried alive under a black tide and never seeing the surface ever again.

Lennesshar nudged Loki with his booted foot, sending him sprawling. “Stop yapping, little pup.” That was an order, and so Loki heard it, but he could not hear the next sentence. It was once again frustratingly distorted, although the tone was far milder.

Perhaps taking pity on his pathetic state, Lennesshar picked Loki up from the floor and held him against his chest. He was wearing his armor, but Loki could still feel the comforting rumble of his growl vibrating through it. He stroked Loki’s hair and scented his neck, and let him cry silently on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else, but Loki understood anyway. Even the commander of a powerful starship could not go up against the Grandmaster of Sakaar. It would be suicide, and Lennesshar had no reason to risk it. Loki was nothing special, he had nothing to offer that Lennesshar could not find for a few coins on the city streets surrounding them. Lennesshar had not even treated Loki very kindly, it was just that being his _little pup_ was the far better choice than being the Grandmaster’s plaything.

***

_“He stinks.”_

Topaz, standing beside the Grandmaster, looked down at Loki’s disheveled appearance with a mixture of delight and disdain. The Grandmaster wrinkled his nose. Clearly he did not disagree with his bodyguard’s assessment.

It was true, anyway. Loki _did_ stink.

He was covered in the evidence of Lennesshar’s claiming of him, from the soles of his feet to the ends of his hair, and everywhere in between. He was filthy with it. The only one who didn’t seem to mind was Lennesshar himself. He stood before the Grandmaster's podium, Loki's ankle chain in his hand and casually sniffed Loki's neck. He said something that Loki was not allowed to hear, and the Grandmaster nodded, a frown still marring his face.

Loki didn’t protest, even though his wretched state was not his fault at all. He just stood there, numb with fear and despair, naked and soaked in his captors seed, before the Grandmaster’s gaze and the eyes of his entire court.

After a long pause, the Grandmaster waved his hand in the air, gesturing between Loki and Lennesshar. “Well, I don’t know what else I expected from you, Loki. It seems you enjoyed this just as much as the box, hmm?”

Loki jerked awake from his stupor. He had been spoken to, and that meant he had to reply. But what was the correct answer? He was surely not allowed to enjoy Lennesshar more than he had enjoyed the Grandmaster’s rape-box. But then he second guessed himself. The Grandmaster had given him to Lennesshar, so surely if he claimed to enjoy it, it would be another compliment for the Grandmaster himself? Loki's head spun. His mind, once as quick as his brother’s lightning, felt like black mud. He bowed, unsure what else to do.

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” He wracked his brain for something else to say, but he couldn’t find it. Everything felt like a trap. Whether he enjoyed last night too much, too little, the same or more or less than what had come before, he would be wrong.

 _You didn’t enjoy it at all. You haven’t enjoyed_ any _of this._

Loki ignored that. It was irrelevant, and the Grandmaster was looking at him with raised brows. He had to say something else.

“May I be excused...to bathe, Grandmaster?”

Lennesshar’s chest rumbled at that, but Loki forced himself to shut it out. He did not have to please Lennesshar now, he had to please the Grandmaster. He was the one who held Loki's life in the palm of his hand, not to mention his mind and body as well. Lennesshar had borrowed him and now he had returned him. That was all.

The Grandmaster gestured and to Loki’s dismay, Topaz stepped down from the platform. She took the chain pointedly from Lennesshar and strode off, dragging Loki behind her.

As they walked, Loki heard Lennesshar’s rumbling voice, and the Grandmaster’s response. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you would! You’re not the only either...heh...he’s a popular one…”

Topaz took advantage of Loki's distraction and yanked on the chain. She gave a nasty laugh when Loki’s foot slipped out from under him and he fell, smacking his head on the hard floor. He scrambled dizzily back to his feet, sure that she would drag him the rest of the way if he didn’t. He did not complain or protest, and she sneered at him in return. With a start of surprise, Loki finally realized that he could actually see Topaz's face. She was not blurred or distorted like everyone else he had seen, apart from the Grandmaster himself.

_Of all the people you can see, it has to someone that hates you._

They walked further than the room Loki had been allowed to sleep in the night before the arena, but he didn’t think too much about it. He had not considered that room to be his, it was just another way-station in the downward spiral of his life. He could not bring himself to wonder where they were going. It hardly mattered.

Topaz was no doubt taking him somewhere to torment and abuse him. After the box, the Grandmaster’s party, his body modifications, the arena and Lennesshar, Loki was not even sure what was left for him to suffer, but he immediately shoved that thought out of his head. If there was anything the Grandmaster lacked, it was not imagination. His appetite for novelty and amusement had been sated on this garbage-planet for centuries. He must have a hundred tortures available for Loki to suffer, all of them worse than the box had been. Loki shuddered at the thought, unable to imagine what could be worse that being put back in that dehumanizing box again and left there, exposed for public use.

Ahead of them, a sliding door whirred open and Topaz led him through it. The room looked like a laundry, and it smelled like one too, soap and steam hanging in the air. A shadow behind a desk greeted Topaz with a high-pitched buzz.

Topaz replied in her gruff tones. “Got one for you to get prettied up. Got anything special available? New and preferably painful?”

The receptionist buzzed and twittered again, and Topaz let out a nasty laugh. “Yeah, that should do it. Sign him up for that. Delivery to the festival halls this evening.”

Neither of them spoke a single word to Loki. Topaz looped his ankle chain around a hook in the wall and left without a backward glance.

"Sign me up for what?" Loki asked the receptionist, fear one again overcoming his numbness and forcing him to speak.

Of course, he did not get a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, furry wolf-man is gone and Topaz has something nasty lined up for Loki - stay tuned for the next chapter!


	12. Mounted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is bad! Please check the tags, it will be squicky for some people!
> 
> I think it going to be the low point for Loki. I have to bring some sliver of hope in here before Loki just loses his mind. I am not sure what it's going to be yet, but this chapter is pretty brutal, and I think we all need a bit of comfort after this!

Loki stood where he had been left while the receptionist twittered into her communication device. He could not hear the words, but the tone sounded like an argument. Before too long, she stomped off to the back room, leaving Loki alone.

He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable. Was he allowed to sit down? Standing on the hard floor was making his bare feet ache, and even if he had to sit on the floor he didn’t care, he was already beyond filthy…

_Wake up! You’re alone. The door’s open. What’s wrong with you?_

Loki froze. Slowly he looked at the archway the receptionist had vanished through. There was no sign of her as far as Loki could see, although his vision was limited to a half-dozen paces. The only other door was the one Topaz had brought him through.

Blinking, Loki's mind churned into gear. It was as though he was finally able to get his head above water and take a deep breath. This was his chance. He could run. He did not care where he went, as long as he was far, far away from the Grandmaster. Maybe he could find Lennesshar again, or even Kuuth on his hive-ship, and persuade one of them to take him away from Sakaar. Without another thought, excited energy rushing through his veins, Loki unhooked the chain from the wall and held it silently in his hand. He took one last look through the open archway, and seeing nothing, he cracked the door out to the passageway and slipped through.

Topaz was waiting for him around the first corner.

She held up the control for the obedience disk and Loki dropped, convulsing as she triggered it. She let him writhe there, agony ripping through him, for what felt like an eternity. When she flipped it off, Loki opened his mouth to take a gasping breath and she flipped it back on. Blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue.

Topaz laughed and turned it off again, well pleased with her joke. “You’re as stupid as you are filthy, you dumb little slut. You won’t last much longer.” Her tone was cold and triumphant as she picked up the chain and dragged Loki back to the room that smelled of soap.

The receptionist was waiting, two larger shadows standing behind her. Loki tried to focus, once again forgetting that his eyes didn’t work anymore and the blurred vision wasn’t going to go away. The aching burn of the obedience disk had cleared his head. Topaz was right - he was stupid. How could he think such a reckless plan would work? Where had he been planning to go, naked and chained and half-blind? He would have been captured and given back to the Grandmaster within minutes, even if Topaz had not done him the favor of pointing out his idiocy in unmistakable terms.

“Take care of this moron. If you lose him the boss will make you take his place.”

Topaz tossed the controller onto the counter and stomped off again. The receptionist and her two shadows dragged Loki through the archway before his muscles had fully recovered from the electrocution.

Behind the archway, the smell of soap and steam intensified, but also the sound of machinery, which made Loki 's skin prickle with alarm. The two larger shadows picked him up, and it was only when Loki saw where they were taking him that he started to struggle. It was useless, of course. The were stronger than him, and if there had been any doubt the receptionist flicked the disk on for three short bursts to ensure his compliance.

The two enforcers held Loki over a small, round platform. Rising from the base of the platform was a thick metal bar, and on the top of the bar, pointing straight up, was a long, fat dildo. At this point in his downward spiral, Loki was just grateful that they used lubricant as the two held him in position with bruising strength. The receptionist used a foot pedal to pump the thing up inch by inch, breaching his well-used hole and pushing it home without pause. Loki was somewhat healed from his rough night with Lennesshar, but he was still far from ready to take another intrusion of that size. That didn’t matter at all, of course. There was nothing he could do but take deep breaths and try to force his muscles not to tense and clench as he was impaled.

The enforcers dropped him the last few inches and Loki cried out as his feet met the metal platform. The dildo shoved itself into his guts as he desperately found his balance. He swayed, nauseous from pain, his stomach cramping and churning. He should be used to this by now, to being penetrated without any regard, but somehow each time was just as bad as the time before. Each violation still hurt, not just physically but mentally. He had to to learn over and over that his body was not his own, that he was available for anyone and for anything.

The receptionist pumped her foot, shoving the thing another inch inside him, forcing him up on his toes.

“Enough!” Loki's voice was a harsh gasp, strained and shaking. He was shocked that he even spoke aloud, so used to being ignored, but he could not help himself. “Enough, that is enough, please!”

The two enforcers laughed and the receptionist pumped her foot twice more. Loki groaned and shut his mouth. The receptionist and her foot pedal were so close, but Loki could not reach her. If he could take even one step forward he could try to snap her heartless neck, but he could not. He was stuck on his platform, pinned by the dildo in his ass as securely as a butterfly to a page.

The dildo was too big and too far up inside him. He could not climb up to get off it, he could not even bend forward. The thing held him upright like a puppet. He was worn like a glove, and he could not help himself in any way.

With a jerk that wrenched Loki’s insides, the platform moved. It hovered a few inches off the ground and glided into the next room, leaving the receptionist and the two enforcers behind. Off balance and up on his toes, Loki swayed and tried to adjust his stance. The thing in his ass did not let him bend or lean, and Loki was forced to use his core muscles to balance, clenching down on the dildo to keep himself upright. The alternative was to fall, and that did not bear thinking about.

Through the next archway, Loki found himself descending a shallow slope, throwing off his balance again. He moved through a hallway, and as far as he could tell he was alone, but since Topaz’s earlier lesson he did not make any assumptions on that front. He passed open doorways, and from the rooms he heard the whir and buzz of machinery, the sloshing of water, and always the smell of soap. He could not see far enough to know what was happening in those rooms, but the faint sounds of weeping he heard from some of them gave him a good enough idea. His platform slowed at one of the doors, and he was taken inside.

He found himself in a small smooth-walled room. The front wall was a single huge mirror. Shadows flickered across it, and Loki frowned. It was probably one-way glass, and knowing Sakaar he probably had an audience. Everything had an audience here. Truely, Sakaarans were endlessly inventive when it came to entertainment for the bored masses, especially the kind of entertainment that relied on the abuse and humiliation of other living beings.

Loki looked away from the mirror, unnerved by what he saw there. It was himself, but not himself. His white eyes were the most obvious change, but everything about him seemed alien now. He looked smaller, more fragile, more breakable, and he did not want to think about it.

He tried to center himself, to ready himself for whatever was coming next, but it was very difficult to do so in the position he found himself. He squirmed on the dildo. It was very definitely still there. Despite it being well lubricated, the sheer size of it was rearranging Loki’s insides in a very unpleasant way. Tentatively, Loki lowered himself down onto his flat feet a fraction of an inch at a time. He could not balance on his toes for much longer, and the few inches of extra depth was manageable if he took it slowly. He gasped as his heels finally touched the platform, a sheen of sweat over his body adding to his sticky and bedraggled appearance. He took slow, deep breaths.

_This is not as bad as the box.You endured that, so you can endure this._

Without warning, the mirror cleared to reveal that just as Loki had expected, he had an audience. He could not see their faces, but there seemed a variety of shapes and sizes pressed up to the glass. Further back, he could see raised tables just on the edge of his constrained vision.

He stared out at the onlookers, trying to appear defiant. Perhaps Lenneshar was there. The commander had seemed to like him, and Loki could not help but hope.

_He liked the way his knot felt in your ass, that’s all. He’s no better than any of these monsters._

Loki shifted on his feet, the dildo moving inside him as he did so. The audience outside the glass was growing, and Loki knew they were not there just to watch him stand there with a dildo in his ass. Something else was coming, and he was not expecting it to be pleasant.

It was less than ten minutes later when hinged panels retracted on either side of Loki and robotic arms unfolded. The construction of the machines reminded him of the box, all sleek chrome and clear tubing, and Loki shuddered at the sight. The arms came closer and Loki tried to lean away. He quickly was reminded why that was a bad idea when the dildo pulled on him and sent another wave of cramps through his guts.

The arms circled him with a slow, even pace, but when they activated it was just to spray him down with water. Loki relaxed minutely. Perhaps he really was here just to get washed. To get ‘prettied up’ as Topaz had said. This was Sakaar, and anything could be a spectacle, even someone being washed.

For a while, Loki allowed himself to believe that might be the case. The two robot arms sprayed him with water, then with soap, then water again, the jets of water actually pleasantly warm. Loki decided to ignore the audience and help things along by scrubbing his fingers through his hair and rubbing his skin with soap where he could reach. He was stuck standing upright, so he could really only do his top half, but even that felt immeasurably better. The sticky coating of Lenneshar’s seed finally sloughed off, and the warm water eased his aches and pains.

After the water, a huge fan in the ceiling activated and blew warm air until Loki was dried off, his hair springing up into unruly curls. His tension grew again as the fan shut off. That was not the end of it, Loki was very sure about that.

He was proved right when an image formed on the glass. It was the outline of a humanoid form. Loki could see it in reverse and the crown outside could see it the right way around. The outline glowed a lurid pink color, and Loki’s trepidation grew when he raised his arm to brush back his hair, and the outline mirrored his movement. He did not know where this was going, but he did not like it.

Words and symbols flashed up on the glass, blurred in Loki’s eyes so that even if they were not reversed he would not be able to read them. He added 'reading' to the list of things he could no longer do. The addition to his limitations would have been devastating if Loki wasn’t fully occupied with what was happening to him now.

As far as he could tell, the audience was voting or perhaps paying for various options that flashed up on the glass. Some were voted down quickly but some lingered, gaining popularity until the first one flashed pink and the crowd cheered. On the outline figure, two pink stars appeared on the chest where the nipples would be.

Instinctively, Loki clapped his hands over his own chest and the crowd roared with laughter. Some cheered and banged on the glass, making what Loki assumed were obscene gestures. Loki found himself glad of the glass separating him from the faceless mob.

Loki shifted nervously on his platform as more options were presented and voted up or down. The outline on the glass filled in with stars over its eyes, ears, mouth, crotch. The star over the mouth was a particularly alarming bright pink with a sparkling halo effect highlighting it. The cheers for that one had been especially loud.

The robotic arms returned, but this time Loki was not going to stand there passively while they did whatever the crowd had selected for him. He tried to grab one and it retracted out of his limited reach, hovering in front of his face, seeming to wait for something.

Loki watched it warily, but he was still off guard when the second arm glided down behind him and clamped a metal collar around his neck. The device was tall, wrapping all the way from his collarbone to under his chin, forcing him to hold his head up. He yelled in alarm and grabbed the thing, trying to balance and fight at the same time. The Sakaaran machines must have been made of something stronger than the usual elemental metals. Loki could not bent or even scratch it, just as he had not been able to fight the box when he had been shut inside it. He was weak here, and it was both galling and humbling. Loki was used to being, if not the strongest, at least the cleverest, the most skilled. He had been a tactician and a strategist. Here, he was as weak as a Midgardian and as oafish as Thor. Even his silver words were irrelevant. No one cared what he had to say; no one even listened.

Loki struggled, but there was nothing he could do. The arm in front of him cocked its claw to one side, as though to say _are you done?_ Loki growled and grabbed the collar around his neck with both hands. He tried to use that leverage to lift himself off the penetrating dildo, but as soon as he lifted his feet and the collar took his weight, the arm holding it lowered. He was dropped another agonizing few inches onto the monster working its way into his guts.

He slammed his feet back down and lifted himself back up, ignoring the cheers and whoops of the crowds and the tears of rage and pain that ran down his face. Of course they were expecting him to try that. He was sure everybody did. It was part of the fun, for those watching.

The outline figure on the glass in front of him lifted its arms up, flashing blue. Loki folded his arms over his chest, stubbornly refusing to comply with the unspoken command. He should have known that it was not optional. The thing inside him gave three warning throbs, which he ignored. A moment later, the obedience disk triggered, which Loki could not ignore because his muscles locked and went rigid. He could not keep his feet under him and the collar around his neck took his weight, once again starting to lower him down.

Loki was screaming when the disk cut off. He was sure that he was doing horrific damage to his internal organs as the upright dildo forced its way further and further into his body. Sobbing, he got his feet under him and stood up, climbing up on his toes again, trying to get the thing out of him. He wrenched himself from side to side and tried to balance on one foot to climb off it. He was allowed to struggle for a few minutes for the entertainment of those watching but soon enough the outline on the window raised its arms and flashed blue again. The dildo gave another three warning throbs.

Loki lifted his arms above his head.

Loki closed his eyes. He did not want to see himself reflected in the glass, and he did not want to see the ghoulish spectators enjoying the sight of his debasement. Whatever was going to happen next, he did not want to be present for it.

He searched his mind for a centering memory, something grounding, something that would help him retain his sense of self through his ordeal, but to his increasing horror there was nothing there. He rifled through memories of Asgard, memories of family, duty, his training, battles fought and won, his accomplishments of seidr. Every memory that he had once thought provided stable ground under his feet had crumbled and fallen into ruin. His family was gone, Asgard was gone, his heritage was a lie, his magic was stripped from him. What was left? What was left that could be called _Loki_?

The dark tide pulled him under, pounding him on the rocks and breaking off piece after piece, grinding him to sand. He did not even notice when the robotic arm reached out and seized his nipples in its clamps.

Loki managed to keep his feet under him as the machine punched gold rings through both his nipples. He was fully aware of what was happening when smaller rings were punched through his ears. The salt of his tears mixed with blood as his face was decorated, stabbed over and over with tiny needles, ink injected under his skin. He kept his arms up throughout, trembling with the effort. Whenever his hands dropped below his shoulders the throb of the dildo warned him to raise them. He knew that if he was shocked again, he would not be able to recover from it quickly enough to save himself from serious injury.

When the arm took his cock and balls in its metal grip, Loki panicked, unable to control himself. It held him there for endless minutes, the crowd watching him shake and stumble on his perch, mumbled entreaties on his lips that he didn’t even bother voicing, because he knew it didn’t matter. Whatever this merciless audience had decided for him was going to be carried out, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When it came, it was almost a relief.

Two more rings were punched through his flesh, one behind his balls and one vertically through the tip of his cock. He almost did pass out from that one, desperately clinging to consciousness. It was not just the pain and the humiliation, but also the knowledge that his body had so little value to anyone. He could be tattooed and pierced on a whim. The Grandmaster did not even care what Loki might look like when he was returned to him. He was worthless, even to the being who was doing this to him.

The stars on the outlined figure blinked out one by one as Loki’s modifications were completed, until only the one on its mouth remained. That one was the most intimidating - bright like a sun, and pulsing like a heart.

The observers were loving the show, the cheers and catcalls a constant wall of noise that Loki could feel, the glass panel shivering and shaking as they beat on it. If they broke it, Loki was almost sure they would tear him apart. They did not think of him as a person at all, merely an object for their amusement, just as the fighters in Grandmaster’s arena were.

The bloodier the better.

Loki clenched his jaw as the robotic arm hovered in front of his face. He could not help it, even though he still held his shaking arms up, he simply could not bring himself to open his mouth.

Just as with everything else here, compliance was easily enforced. The arm opened its multi-functional claw and gripped Loki’s jaw, sending short, painful shocks into his facial muscles until it found the right nerves and Loki’s mouth opened involuntarily.

Loki expected it when his tongue was pierced. He was fitted with a heavy weight that seemed huge in his mouth. That was not all, though. Loki's nerves were shocked again, inside his mouth this time, tiny, prickling shocks that almost felt like needles sliding into his gums.

He braced himself for whatever was coming. He had to stay on his feet. That was all he had to do, just stay on his feet and stay conscious. He could do that, surely. No matter what he was now, he had been trained for battle and for hardship. He had been forced to practice hostage scenarios and kidnappings. His trainers had not been gentle, but though all that he had had not wept as he wept now. He had not felt this helpless, bottomless fear that no matter what he endured now, there would be no end to it until he was entirely erased and destroyed.

Back on Asgard, he had often heard the popular folk-tale of Snorri and his mighty axe. Snorri was a warrior who would win battle after battle, and after each one, he would repair and replace parts of his axe. Over time, the head, the binding, the handle and handle-wrap all were replaced. Was it the same axe?

Loki knew the answer now, even if he had not known it then. The answer was no. It was not the same axe. If enough parts were replaced, if enough was broken, chipped away and thrown into the trash, anything could be remade entirely in whatever manner the maker desired. That is what was happening to Loki. Parts of him were being removed and replaced, and when it had happened enough times, he would be gone. Whatever was left would not be him at all.

Loki barely felt it when four of his teeth were pulled out, two on each side, upper and lower molars. His mouth filled with blood, running down his throat, and over his chin and down his chest. The machine replaced his teeth with something else, he did not know what, he just felt the vibration as his jaw was drilled and screws inserted.

When the robotic arm finally withdrew Loki closed his mouth. His tongue was too sore and swollen from the piercing to be able to feel anything of what had happened to his teeth. His jaw was starting to ache as whatever pain-numbing method had been used on him wore off.

By some miracle, he was still standing, and he was forced to stay there, impaled on the dildo, arms raised, as the arms rinsed him off again with warm water and soap. The water jets were painful on his tender nipples, his genitals, his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't see his reflection in the glass, and parted his lips to let the water spray inside his mouth.

No matter how much he tried, he could not get rid of the taste of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Steelcode for the tattoo/piercing machine suggestion! :) Suggestions always welcome, I love them even if I can't work them in to this story, you never know what future story they might show up in.


	13. Transformed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, more new tags for this chapter!

All of Loki's modifications were complete, and the robotic arms withdrew into the walls. A few minutes later, the platform Loki was mounted on started to rotate, slowly turning him around and around so that his audience could see everything. Still forced to keep his arms up, Loki was unable to hide any part of himself. He did not know what was worse - facing the glass he could see his own reflection, but facing away, his onlookers could see the huge dildo disappearing between his buttocks. Both were utterly humiliating, and if he closed his eyes to try to avoid acknowledging any of it, he quickly became dizzy and disoriented from the rotation.

Loki was left on display for another hour, and he was close to collapse. The only thing that kept him upright was the sickening sensation of the dildo inching into his body whenever his knees started to give out.

The crowd outside his window had drifted away when the main show ended. Now, passers-by sometimes paused to look in at him; they would admire his newly modified body for a few moments and then move on. Much of the time no one stopped, but he had to stand there anyway, an exhibit with no audience.

The door behind him opened without warning, and at the same time the glass window flickered and turned back into a mirror. Loki averted his eyes at once. He had no desire to see himself in his current state.

Two shadows entered the room. Maybe they were the same ones who had mounted him on his platform, maybe they were not. Loki had no way to tell, and it didn’t matter much. His every fiber ached to be released, but it seems he had to wait a little more for that.

First, he was inspected.

From his head to his feet, the two faceless entities looked him over, checking every inch. Any slight imperfection or blemish was covered with a quick spray from a canister, smoothing it away. They tugged on the rings in Loki’s ears, nipples and genitals, ignoring his pained whimpers. They made him open his mouth to check the piercing in his tongue and rock the implants in his jaw with their fingers.

Loki kept his hands up through it all, despite the urge to slap his tormentors away. He could not risk being shocked again, and so despite his empty despair at his own compliance he did not resist.

When they were done, they pulled a light robe over his head. It was long and semi-transparent, cut low in the front and and split up the sides, it revealed more than it concealed. The long sleeves covered his hands and flowed almost to the ground. Only then, finally, did they release him from the dildo buried inside him. At their unseen command the thing smoothly retracted between Loki's legs, leaving a sickening emptiness behind it that made Loki nauseous.

He would have fallen off the platform then if the two shadows had not been there to catch him. They weren't even rough with him, they steadied him and got him back to his feet, just as they would have done for any creature in their charge. Loki felt like an animal being readied for a show. The two did not bother talking to him, and he did not bother talking to them. It was as though they were no longer on the same plane of existence. Loki could not understand them, and they would not pay the slightest attention to anything he had to say. Words were pointless.

The two shadows walked him out of the small room and through another door. Loki almost was dizzy with relief when he was led to a low, curtained off couch and the two sat him down on it, then lifted his feet and arranged him in a reclining pose. They fastened his ankle chain to a bolt in the floor, and left him there.

Loki surmised he was supposed to rest, rather than be displayed, as there was no one there to watch him. He stared at the curtain above him, his head spinning. After the intensity of the prior chamber, this place seemed almost unreal. He was truly just left here to rest like a real person? He was not used or displayed, no one stood over him, ready to make use of him? He hardly knew what to do with himself.

He turned, trying to get comfortable. The newly placed ring in his cock brushed against his robe, and the momentary illusion of normalcy vanished. Loki was just as much a prisoner here as he had been while impaled on that dildo. Just because no one was fucking him at this moment did not mean anything. His body was not merely available for use, it had been _repurposed_ for use. He had been changed, transformed, and he did not even know the full extent of it yet.

Loki closed his eyes. He put his hands to his face and pressed his palms down, trying to compress his thoughts, trying to hold himself together. Moment by moment, the pain in his jaw was ramping up, and he knew he could not avoid it any longer.

He slid two fingers into his mouth. They brushed over the weighted piercing in his tongue and found his teeth, searching for the four that had been pulled and replaced. He knew which they were as soon as he felt them. They were no longer smooth enamel, but a softer material, rounded at the tops instead of the biting surfaces of his natural teeth. Loki could not put words to the feeling it raised in him to touch those alien pegs implanted in his jaw. It was revulsion, violation, and helplessness, all bound up together in a dark sensation of utter despair. If this could so easily be done to him, where would it end? What limit was there? Loki had been swept off the shore by a riptide and now he was far from land, far and getting farther. Soon, he would forget what the land even looked like. He would forget that he had ever known the safety of a shore.

His fingers fell from his mouth. Loki did not touch his ears, his nipples, his genitals. He could not stand it. He was crawling out of his skin and he could not stand anything anymore. He would get no rest here, and the pretense of it was unbearable. He stood up, staggering as his body remembered why he had been lying down in the first place. With uneven steps, he walked the length of his chain, as far from the couch as he could get. Each pace sent tremors of pain through all his piercings as they pulled and rubbed against his robe. The pain in his jaw was blooming by the second, spreading down his neck and up through his skull. It was agony, and he wanted to scream from it.

Unable to resist, Loki touched the implants in his mouth again, shuddering at the feel of them. He tried to grip one and pull it, but it was too smooth, slippery with saliva. It had been screwed into his bone, he had felt it being done. There was nothing he could do about it with just his fingers. He paced, like a caged beast, looking around him in twelve-foot increments. The room appeared to be a waiting room. There were other curtained couches but those he could see were empty.

Loki paced the other way, reaching the end of the room before his chain ran out. He turned and found himself facing a tall mirror set to one side of the room.

He stopped dead, staring at the creature staring back at him.

He had been transformed. His reflection looked like a version of him from another universe. His skin was smooth and shimmering, like that of a doll. His hair was softly curling around his face, and his face...oh his face! Loki's fingertips brushed the decorations tattooed there. He had almost forgotten about the needles, tiny little things stinging him over and over, but here was the result. White lines traced over his pale skin, curving up over his cheekbones and temples and down over his jaw. The delicate lines framed his features to make his white eyes seem larger, his lips fuller. All his features were subtly altered and defined. Loki would have admired the artistry, if it had not been permanently forced on him without his consent.

Loki needed to see more. He needed to see it _all_ . Emotion was rising in him that he could not name or control, flooding through his nerves. He needed to see everything that the machine had done to him. He approached the mirror, the gauzy robe tangling around his feet as he walked. In a fit of sudden fury he ripped it off; the sensation of it against his skin was more than he could bear. He balled it up and threw it behind him, beyond the reach of his chain so he could not retrieve it. He had had no choice about what the machine had done to him, everything had been chosen by the pitiless audience, but he had a choice now. He had a choice to wear their provocative choice of clothes and he refused. He would _not_ be tamed!

If he was to be an object for the pleasure of the Grandmaster of Sakaar, he would not pretend that it was not forced. Where had his compliance got him? He had thought he could survive it, and so he had obeyed, he had smiled and acquiesced, and in return he had been turned into _this_. Let them all see what the Grandmaster had done to him. Let them all see and be afraid that it would be them next!

The mirror cracked under Loki's fist before he realized that he had punched it. A spider-web of fractures burst from the point of impact, splitting his image into dozens of mismatched pieces. A trickle of blood dripped from his hand, and Loki wiped his fingers over his face, two thick stripes on each cheek, erasing the delicate tattoos.

He grinned into the mirror and wiped his bloody hand through his hair too, ruining the careful waves. As though in a dream, he picked up a sliver of glass and cut his hand again, printing bloody hand-prints over his smoothed-out skin, reclaiming himself and his own body.

A door opened behind him and he spun, half-hidden behind one of the curtained couches.

_“...come here you dumb little slut, it’s time for your…”_

Topaz caught sight of him and stopped dead. She looked Loki up and down, taking in both what the modification chamber had done to him, and what he had done to himself.

A slow, triumphant smile crossed her face. “Never mind. I’ll take you straight to the trash.”

“Take me wherever you want,” Loki said. He enunciated each word carefully, riding the wave of his exhilaration, shaking all over from adrenaline, from pain and from exhaustion. He raised his chin defiantly. “I’m done playing these games. Death is better than slavery.”

Topaz shrugged and raised her hand, showing Loki the control device for the cursed obedience disk.

“Fine. He was getting bored with you anyway.”

Loki’s muscles locked and he hit the floor, fire burning through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Loki is at the end of his rope! What's going to happen now that he's not going to play along with the Grandmaster's games?


	14. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some people are getting anxious, I want to remind you all that Loki is not going to die in this fic! I would not do that to you my dears, not without tagging for it!
> 
> However, he is going to SUFFER, so stick around for that!
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and commenting!

Loki woke up choking. He tried to grab his throat but his hands were bound behind his back. He jerked in his restraints, struggling to understand what was happening to him, and more importantly, how he could _stop_ it from happening.

After a few breathless, heart-pounding moments, Loki got his knees under him and managed to ease the pressure on his neck. He gasped and coughed, his chest heaving from his near-strangulation. He was collared again, and the collar was attached to a short post behind his back, keeping him in a kneeling position. His wrists were attached to the same post, possibly his ankles too, although he did not try to move to test out that theory. He had obviously been put there while he was unconscious, and left to hang from his neck until he either woke up, or didn’t. Loki could see Topaz’s hand in that decision. His throat was tender and sore, suggesting he had been there, unconscious, for some time. But where was he exactly?

He looked around. On his right and left there were two identical posts to the one he was installed on. Both were empty, the collar and cuffs hanging open, waiting for a victim to imprison there. The floor was smooth black tile, cold and hard under Loki’s knees, and that was all. His vision cut out a dozen feet away, and within that bubble there was nothing else to see. The room was quiet, as well. No sounds of merriment, the clink of glasses, the murmur of voices. Quiet was not the natural state of affairs on Sakaar, and it made Loki nervous.

Loki did his best to ignore the growing pit in his stomach telling him that he had, perhaps, been unwise to react the way he had after the modification chamber. He was not sure what had happened to make him lose control. He had suffered worse pain, worse torture and worse humiliation than that. He had endured the Grandmaster’s box and managed to come out of it in one piece, and even been able to lie to the Grandmaster’s face about enjoying it.

Without his conscious volition, Loki's pierced tongue ran over his teeth, feeling the rounded pegs implanted there. He shuddered. He did not know why his teeth had been pulled to make way for these alien devices, or what function they had, but he was sure it would be nothing pleasant. He glanced down at himself, awkward because of the collar around his neck. He was still nude, and the bloody hand-prints and smears he had decorated himself with were still there. His heart sank further.

The Grandmaster would be displeased, and Loki was still very much under his power, with no way to extricate himself. He had been lucky enough to be given another chance after he had helped Thor escape - the box and his subsequent ordeals were his punishment for that. And now he had rebelled and refused to accept that punishment.

What did the Grandmaster do with people who refused to play his games?

As far as Loki knew, he either _forced_ them to play, or he disposed of them to the arena, or worse. He shifted his position again, trying to ease the ache in his knees and the strain on his back and shoulders. His position here, bound on his knees, made him think the Grandmaster was not done with him yet, but the identical posts on either side of him suggested that he was no longer considered one of his special projects.

He was probably in one of the many windowless pleasure rooms behind the festival halls. He ran his tongue over the pegs in his mouth again, the heavy piecing in his tongue clunking against his remaining teeth. An uncomfortably clear picture was forming in his head of what his intended use would be, but the pieces had yet to fully come together. There was nothing he could do but wait.

Hours later, Loki's knees and back were screaming in pain, and still no one had come for him. He could hear distant noises now, but it was not the usual sound of riotous celebration that marked Sakaar’s evenings. Instead, it sounded more like actual riots, interspersed with laser blasts and the occasional rumbling crunch that made the tile floor tremble under Loki’s knees. He pulled at his restraints, anxiety growing.

Something was happening on Sakaar, something big, and Loki was afraid that he had been left here and forgotten. He heard footsteps on the tile, someone approaching at a fast pace, and he decided the risk of drawing attention to himself was worth it.

“Help!” he called out, his voice quieter than he expected due to strangulation and thirst. He tried again. “Help! Please, I need help!”

The footsteps stopped, and then after a moment started up again, running right past Loki’s station and continuing on, fading into the distance.

“Wait!” Loki cried, almost a sob, “Please, wait! Help me!”

There was no reply.

Time ticked by, and the distant noises came closer. Loki’s wrists were puffy and sore from pulling against the cuffs, and panic was nearly suffocating him. Where was everybody? The festival halls were never this empty, not for so long, and the sounds of battle were almost on top of him now, the floor trembling constantly.

Loki slumped in his restraints. Whatever was happening on Sakaar, he had been abandoned - that much was obvious. His stomach growled and his mouth was dry. When was the last time he had been fed? He cast his mind back. Was it really on Lennesshar’s ship? The bowl of stew he had eaten, half of it spilled into his lap by the commander’s over-enthusiastic pawing? Loki would be eternally grateful to see him now. He would consider him nothing less than a savior, and he would willingly lie down for his knot. A part of him knew that was a half-delirious fantasy, and another part of him remembered that his willingness had not mattered at all to Lennesshar. But still, he allowed the dream to linger, that somehow the commander remembered him, and he would find him here, break his chains and carry him off to his ship.

As though summoned by Loki’s feverish daydream, footsteps once again echoed on the tile. Loki jerked awake, half choking himself on the collar before he remembered he could not stand up.

“Please,” he called out hoarsely, “Please, over here.”

Footsteps approached, and a figure stepped out of the fog at the limits of Loki’s vision, a gleam of gold and azure-blue. It was the Grandmaster himself, and Loki’s mind fogged for a moment as the pressure of his ancient power rolled over him.

“Ah, Loki, there you are! I’ve been looking quite literally everywhere for you! Something quite dreadful has happened, and I simply can’t ignore it. Not this time. Now, what are you doing here, hmm? Can’t you hear the fighting going on? ”

Loki stared, unable to formulate a coherent response. The Grandmaster looked as chipper as ever despite the vibration of heavy artillery coming through the building. A quizzical half-smile played on his face as he waited for Loki's answer, and his piercing eyes crinkled at the corners. It was as though the Grandmaster could not see Loki’s restraints, could not see that he was helplessly bound and imprisoned.

Loki could not look away from him. After seeing nothing but faceless shadows, the Grandmaster was like a drink of cool water on Loki's mutilated eyes. Loki blinked slowly and licked his dry lips. The Grandmaster expected an answer, and Loki had to give one that fit the question. What was he doing here?

“I am waiting for you, Grandmaster.”

The Grandmaster beamed, as though Loki were a dog that had performed a difficult trick. “Well, good! Good for you. You’re just so...mmm...just such a good boy, Loki. Aren’t you? I know you’ve made some, well, let’s call them bad decisions, but that's all behind you now, isn’t it? Are you ready to go?”

The building shuddered and dust fell from the ceiling.

Loki tried to stop himself from screaming. This was his last chance, and he knew it. The Grandmaster knew it too, his grey eyes penetrating Loki’s soul, ignoring the blood on his face and body, ignoring the evidence of his rebellion. This is what he did with people who would not play his games, and Loki realized at once the depth of his foolishness. The Grandmaster would not end his game, nor would he let Loki escape his fate. No, he would make every other choice so horrifying that his victim would beg to be allowed to play, just as Loki was about to do.

Being abandoned alone, chained up like a beast and left to die was not something Loki could face. He knew that made him weak. Any other man who called himself a warrior would certainly choose death over the life that the Grandmaster was offering. Loki accepted that. His fury and rebellion in the waiting room was well and truly gone, drained away as though it had never been, lanced like a boil.

He bowed his head, kept his eyes on the Grandmaster’s feet, and gave his consent.

“Yes, Grandmaster. Thank you. I want to come with you, please.”

“Peachy!” The Grandmaster rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, as though Loki had offered him a tasty snack rather than offering him his entire self. Loki supposed that to a being as powerful as the Grandmaster of Sakaar, there was not much difference between the two. “Well, come on then.”

Loki’s restraints released, and he fell on his face on the hard floor. The Grandmaster was already walking away. Loki was terrified that if he got beyond his limited vision, the Grandmaster would simply vanish like a wisp of smoke. He scrambled to his feet and staggered after him. He ignored the pain of his stiff muscles, the bruise forming on his face where he had hit the floor, and the tugging weight of the golden rings in his body. He just ran, his bare feet sliding on the smooth floor until he was at the Grandmaster’s side.

The long chain was gone from his ankle and so Loki was adrift, untethered. He was unsure if he should walk behind or by the Grandmaster's side. The Grandmaster gave him a quick glance but otherwise ignored him, heading down a passageway with a long stride. Loki hurried at his shoulder with an anxious trot.

***

Topaz glared at Loki when they boarded a mid-size spacecraft and the door hissed closed behind them.

“Found him!” The Grandmaster announced cheerfully. He took a seat on a thone-like chair behind the flight seats, and settled his robes around himself.

Topaz grunted and turned back to her controls. Loki wondered briefly if he should tell the Grandmaster that Topaz had left him chained up in that far-flung room, but he decided against it. The Grandmaster already knew, he had little doubt about that. This was all part of his game.

Topaz touched her controls and the ship sprang lightly into the air. They flew over the city, the noise of explosions and fighting louder here, although he could not see it. A fine, pale dust cloud hung over the city, smearing the ship's crystal view-ports.

The Grandmaster snapped his fingers and Loki's attention lurched back to him, his mind immediately dismissing what he had seen. He had one job now, and that was to keep the Grandmaster happy at all costs.

Luckily, he seemed relatively unbothered by the battle and the destruction of his city.

“Be a dear, Loki. Go get cleaned up, hmm?”

The Grandmaster gestured over his shoulder and Loki obediently scurried to the back of the ship where he found several small, bare cabins, and one large, luxurious stateroom. He picked one of the cabins, they were both the same and both equipped with a compact shower. The deck tilted under him but Loki didn’t allow himself to wonder about it. He showered off the blood and got cleaned up, as he had been instructed. When he was done, he stood looking in the small mirror above the basin.

The same face he had seen after the modification-chamber stared back at him. He was white-eyed, tattooed, his body decorated by jewellery, but this time Loki felt no stir of rage. He felt nothing but blank numbness. The Grandmaster had broken him, not with pain, not with torture, but simply by showing him that the alternative to submission was a painful, extended death, alone. It was cowardly, he knew, but Loki could not face that end.

Not yet.


	15. Traded

Loki had no clothes to wear, but he hadn't expected any. He was used to being naked, so he didn't hesitate to leave the cabin and walk back to the flight deck in nothing but his jewelry and his wrist and ankle cuffs, his bare feet padding on the smooth floors.

The ship was a moderate size. In addition to the two cabins and the large stateroom, there was a lounge area with low, comfortable seating, and another dimly lit room with smooth, seamlessly curved walls, lined with a soft rubber-like material. Loki hurried past the entrance to that room. He did not know what it was used for, and he did not want to know.

On the flight deck, the Grandmaster crooked his finger to bring Loki to his side. Seemingly out of nowhere he produced two lengths of gold chain, handing them to Loki. "I'm so glad you decided to come with me, Loki. Now, just pop those on, would you, hmm?"

Loki stood there, the chains hanging from his hand, and tried to understand his command. Surely, the Grandmaster did not expect him to chain _himself_ , did he? But of course he did, and he watched Loki with a calm, bland expression until Loki could not resist the pressure to obey. He bent down and connected his ankle cuffs together with the longer chain, then one of his wrist cuffs. He was about to connect the other wrist when the Grandmaster _tutted_ at him.

"Behind your back, sweetheart."

Loki swallowed, his heart beating in his throat. He was trapped, and they both knew it. He had to obey, even though he was only twisting the Grandmaster's trap, wrapping himself tighter and tighter in the sticky threads of his web. Loki was literally putting himself in bondage, but he could not refuse. He had burned his last chance, and any further rebellion would not be forgiven.

Loki closed his eyes and did it. The chains held his hands behind his back and limited his steps to about half his usual stride. But where did he have to go, anyway? Nowhere, other than here, where the Grandmaster wanted him.

The Grandmaster tugged Loki onto his lap. He arranged him so that he was curled up, his legs over one arm of the throne and his head on the Grandmaster’s shoulder. He sat there, tense and quivering as the Grandmaster idly toyed with the rings in his nipples, and then moved down to check the rings in Loki's cock and behind his balls. He looped one finger through that last one and gently tugged it away from Loki’s body.

“So, these are cute, love it, love it, Loki. I’m sure they won’t get in the way of anything...heh...anything that our gracious host has in mind.”

Loki tensed further, if such a thing were possible. He licked his lips and dared to ask a question.

“Host, Grandmaster?”

The Grandmaster hummed and turned the ring a quarter turn. It twisted Loki’s tender flesh and somehow pulled all the way through his pelvis and belly, as though his insides were attached to the ring with invisible threads.

Loki got the message very clearly and shut his mouth. The Grandmaster pulled his head down and kissed his forehead approvingly.

“There you go, sweetheart.” He let go of the ring and cupped Loki's balls instead, rolling them between his fingers. “Just be a good boy for me, hmm?”

Loki could do nothing but say, “Yes, Grandmaster,” and sit passively on the Grandmaster's lap, balls held in his grip, as Topaz piloted the ship to its destination.

The light from the front viewing-portal darkened, and Loki surmised they were ascending into the upper atmosphere. He tried not to be curious about where they were going and what had happened on Sakaar. It was not his concern, and the Grandmaster had made it clear that questions were not welcome. But still, it was hard to turn off his observations. The ship they were on was not equipped for long interstellar voyages, merely short hops between planets in the same system, and the Grandmaster’s mention of a ‘host’ made Loki think they were heading to a larger ship. But why? The Grandmaster was an elder being, he could be anywhere he wanted merely by willing it. Why take a ship? And what kind of event could force him to leave his planet? If it was a mere rebellion of his population, he could have ended it with a wave of his hand. He could make it never have happened.

Loki’s head was full of questions, and if he was honest, the one that echoed the loudest was ' _why did he come back for me?'_ The Grandmaster was not in short supply of pleasure slaves, but Loki was the only one on this ship. What purpose did he have?

Loki flinched as a shadow covered their vessel, a moment later a deep clang echoed through it. They had docked with another ship.

The Grandmaster stood up, tipping Loki off his lap in a tumble of limbs. He could not catch himself with his hands bound, and he hit the deck with a crack to his head. The Grandmaster either didn't notice, or didn't care.

“Wonderful Topaz! Very nice ...heh...very nice flying. I always say you’re the best pilot, so smooth. Why did you stop flying, anyway?”

Topaz shut down her controls. “You wanted me to be your chief, Grandmaster.”

“Of course! And what would I do without you. Come along, Loki.”

Loki struggled awkwardly to his feet and followed the Grandmaster with a slow, shuffling gait. They waited at the heavy airlock door while the sequence of lights counted down. Loki gripped his hands behind his back, both to stop himself from pulling on the chain and reminding him of his restraints, and also to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. He was desperate to ask where they were going, whose ship this was, and what he was to do there, but he clenched his jaw and kept his mouth shut. Luckily, the Grandmaster was feeling loquacious.

“Alright sweetheart, now our friend here is going to take us to a little planet, I think you’re familiar with it actually, it’s in your neck of the woods. Place called Terra, the locals call it Earth. Something major happened there. It's nothing you need to worry your lovely head about, of course, but - ” The Grandmaster paused to sigh theatrically, “- but my position does have it’s responsibilities, and universe destabilizing events is one of them. So we’re hitching a ride. And it would be so, so rude of me not to offer an incentive to our gracious host. Just be…heh… your usual perfect, charming, self, and we’ll be on Terra before you know it.”

The lights continued their countdown as Loki’s mind churned. There was too much information in those last few sentences for Loki to absorb all at once, but he seized on one thing. They were going to Midgard, gateway to the nine realms. Midgard, the world that Thor had sworn to protect. Surely, _surely_ , a being with the Grandmaster’s power showing up on Midgard would catch Thor’s attention, no matter what else was occupying him. Loki did not dare think about what might happen after that, if his brother would even care to check on him, after he had abandoned Loki to his fate on Sakaar.

The rest of the Grandmaster’s words percolated slowly through Loki's mind as the airlock counted down, and he finally was able to piece together his purpose.

Loki was the currency that the Grandmaster would use to pay their passage on this ship.

“Grandmaster,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Grandmaster, of course, I would be delighted to - " he searched for the right words, his mind briefly blanking out in his distress “ - show our appreciation to our host. But surely, if this is a matter of such importance, could you not simply…take us there?”

The Grandmaster chuckled and tapped Loki on the nose with a fond smile. “Of course,” he said, “Of course, sweetheart. You’re so adorable. I can take us there, I can take us anywhere. I can make here there, and there here. I can turn a single atom into a universe, and the universe into a single atom. But then what, hmm? Then what? If I can do anything, I may as well do nothing. This way is more fun.”

The lights on the airlock flashed, and the door _thunked_ and started to open.

“Yes, but…” Loki started, but the Grandmaster put a finger on his lips and shushed him.

“Sweetheart, I don’t expect you to understand. But I do expect you to do what you do best, hmm? Are you worried about being good? You’re so sweet Loki, just delightful. You have nothing to worry about. Our host already likes you plenty.”

Loki paused on that last sentence. Their host already knew him. Already _liked_ him. There was only one person Loki could think of that met that criteria - Commander Lennesshar. He had liked Loki. Not as a person, of course, he had not liked him for his personality or his intellect or his conversation. He had liked him as a toy to play with, but Loki would take that at this point in his downward spiral. At least he might be fed.

“Of course, Grandmaster,” he said, lowering his head. It didn’t matter anyway. He would have to do what he was told to do. He had surrendered, back on Sakaar. He had traded himself to the Grandmaster in exchange for his life. The Grandmaster may pretend to be limited by the bounds of space and time, but Loki knew he wasn’t. He was capable of enslaving and torturing those who got in his way, or even those whose suffering amused him. He was capable of ending Loki so utterly that he would never see the afterlife. All Loki could do now was dance on the burning hot coals of his attention and hope to avoid obliteration.

Still, against all good sense, a tiny spark of hope ignited in Loki's breast - if he was pleasing enough, Lennesshar may be willing help him.

The airlock door opened. The far end of the connecting passageway was concealed in mist, past the edge of Loki's allowed vision. Nervous, Loki took an involuntary half-step back, but he was immediately caught by the Grandmaster’s hand on the small of his back, guiding him forward. From the mist a figure emerged, shadowed, as everyone was to Loki’s altered eyes. It was big, bulky, taking up the full height of the passageway.

Loki inhaled through his nose, his unease growing. The smell was not what he expected, not what he remembered from Lennesshar's ship.

“Here we go,” The Grandmaster said, brightly, pushing Loki forward another few short paces. “You have fun with him now! He's all ready for you, and he even has a few new surprises too. Here." The Grandmaster hung a chain around Loki's neck, a jeweled pendant dangling from it. It was heavy, and from what Loki could see, it looked like a more elaborate version of the obedience disk control. Loki's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing on what that meant. The disk was still in his neck, but now he had six metal rings in his body as well, and... _oh norns, my teeth, what did they do to my teeth?_ The Grandmaster carried on, ignoring Loki's squirming at his side, working his wrists against the cuffs attempting to reach the control that hung around his neck.

"Just give him back in one piece when we arrive, will you?”

Loki was pushed forward again, harder this time. The too-short chain between his ankles tripped him and sent him slamming to his knees. He looked over his shoulder, but the Grandmaster had already turned away. He stepped back through the airlock and closed it with a solid metallic thud, leaving Loki behind, alone with their host.

Loki whimpered, horrified, when instead of the expected claw he felt a damp, muscular appendage wrap around his wrist and pull him to his feet. He stared, open-mouthed and lightheaded, the walls and floor rotating around him as he flashed back to the box, to tentacles squirming inside him, to creatures filling every inch of him with writhing, squirming appendages. He knew what this meant. 

He had not been given to Lennesshar. He had been given to Kuuth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Loki's going to get ovipositored (again!)


	16. Prepared

Loki’s knees folded under him and he could not stand. The shadow creature that held him did not acknowledge his collapse, it simply dragged him out of the airlock and sealed the door. Loki pressed his back to the nearest wall. He was hyperventilating, panic clouding his mind, and he was unable to stop it.

He had been given to Kuuth. He was on his hive-ship, and he could remember all too clearly what the Grandmaster had told him Kuuth wanted him for. A _brood-host_. Loki did not know what that was, but his body remembered the tentacles heaving inside him all too clearly. The passageway spun and Loki clutched his head, hyperventilating. He was terrified to pass out, in case he woke up installed inside some horrifying device. If that happened, he would have no defense against becoming an incubator for whatever came out of the ovipositors that Kuuth and his crew had raped him with.

Loki took a gasping breath and tried to gather his thoughts. The Grandmaster had asked for him back in one piece when they arrived. He would not be left here forever.

But how long was it until they arrived on Midgard? Loki could not piece together even a fragment of a memory of a star-map in his mind. Once, he had been able to navigate the hidden pathways of Yggdrasil purely from memory, but now his mind was wiped clean, scrubbed by the tide that had washed over him over and over again. Loki was down to the bedrock now, reduced to base survival and nothing else.

The passageways of the ship were a blur as Loki was taken to his destination. Staying on his feet was an impossible challenge. The ankle chain tripped him and the creature was moving him too fast. Whenever he lost his footing he was dragged until he stumbled back to his feet. The floor of the ship was sticky, and the air was heavy and moist. Loki felt as though he were being dragged through the belly of some vast creature, that would soon consume and digest him.

They arrived at a round door in a passageway of closely-set round doors. There was a label the door that Loki couldn't read. He didn't think about it. It was just another amputation that he had suffered at the Grandmaster's hands.

The door irised open and Loki was firmly pushed inside, falling over the raised lintel and rolling as he landed. The door shrank and closed behind him, and of course there was no control panel on his side. Loki lay on the sticky floor where he had fallen waiting for his head to stop spinning and his stomach to settle. He wanted to vomit, but his stomach was so empty that he doubted it was possible. When enough time had passed to calm down, Loki slowly raised his head and looked around.

The room was small, and circular. Loki could see all sides and the curved ceiling even with his limited vision. The round shape of the room and the memory of the passageway full of identical doors reminded him unpleasantly of a honeycomb. A shiver ran up his spine as the words ‘hive-ship’ echoed through his head.

As he turned, the control device swung on its chain around Loki's neck. He was still chained at wrists and ankles, and the sight of the control so close to hand made him want to weep. He tried to reach it, to roll and wriggle to get it off over his head, but he was too shaky and uncoordinated to manage it. He bit his lip and whimpered. He was reacting out of fear and dread, but he could not stop himself. Even if he could reach the device he had no idea what he would do next. He still was far, far from any friendly face, surrounded by those who wished to make use of him for their own purposes.

The door abruptly hissed open and Loki fell back, off-balance and certain that he was about to be punished for trying to take the controller. A shadowed figure filled the doorway. Maybe it was the same one as before, maybe not. It set a bottle on the ground, and reached its long appendages towards Loki, taking the control device on its long chain and studying it curiously. Loki held his breath, expecting his punishment to start at any moment.

The creature let out a burst of incomprehensible words, nothing that Loki could understand. He just stared blankly, waiting. Loki didn’t even think to tell the creature he could understand if he was given orders. His state of verbal and visual isolation seemed natural to him by now. He was set apart from other people; he was not one of them.

Another burst of speech he didn’t understand and Loki braced himself. He lay down on his back on the sticky floor, twitching, waiting for the punishment to begin. He would accept it. The more he fought, the more it hurt, and coward that he was he wanted to avoid pain. He knew he had no chance to avoid whatever uses Kuuth and his crew intended for him, but if he was well behaved and compliant, perhaps they would not hurt him more than they needed to.

A soft click came from the device and Loki flinched. A moment later a piercing pain stabbed into the sides of his head. He let out a helpless wail, then just as quickly as it had started, the pain was gone.

_“Do you understand me now?”_

Loki jerked back to an upright position. The shadow creature had spoken to him. He stared, blinking at the blurred, buzzing, shadowy shape that loomed over him. Another click, and Loki’s eyes were stabbed by a thousand needles, each one soaked in acid and burning like fire. He screamed that time, and jerked in his restraints so hard that blood dripped down his wrists. If he had had his hands free he would have been clawing at his eyes to make the pain stop. Just like before, the pain turned off abruptly, and Loki blinked his eyes free of tears. He looked up, and instead of a vague, amorphous shape, he saw the person he was talking to.

He recognized her at once as a crogall, a member of the secretive race that sometimes traded with the dwarves of Nidavellir. This was a female, Loki could tell by the red coloring of her scales down her chest and belly, and the fact that she had four major tentacles branching from her shoulders rather than six. Two of her tentacles ended in delicately branched tendrils that acted as fingers, the other two in rough gripping pads.

The proximity of a race of people that he knew, that Loki had traded with in his former life as a prince rendered Loki mute with surprise. The Crogall female quirked her flat, snake-like head to one side.

“Did he take your tongue as well as your eyes and ears? Answer me, little warm-blood.”

“Yes, I understand you,” Loki blurted out, shocked out of his isolation by the impatient order. "You are crogall! I am Loki of Asgard, son of..."

"Hush." The woman held up the control device in pointed warning. "You are not of Asgard, little warm-blood. you are something far more rare. That much was obvious to Kuuth when he found you in the pleasure rooms."

With her tendrilled appendages, the crogall hung the control device around her own neck and came further into the round room. The space was barely big enough for both of them and Loki shuffled back until his shoulders were pressed to the curved wall. The woman hissed out a laugh at his nervousness. Her thick gripping tentacles uncoiled and wrapped around Loki's chest and waist, dragging him back to the center of the room.

With another quick click the chain holding Loki’s wrists behind his back released, and the bottle was placed into his hands.

“Drink this.”

"But..."

"Drink."

The bottle was large in Loki’s hands, evidently not made for a being of his size. It was topped with a soft, flexible tube, and it reminded him of a baby’s bottle. Loki considered asking what was in it, but decided with barely a thought that it was not worth the risk. If he did not comply, his captor would punish him until he did. It was really that simple, and Loki had no illusions about his ability to stand up to torture. Not anymore.

Loki raised the bottle to his mouth and took a cautious sip. To his surprise, the liquid inside tasted like milk, and he was so hungry that he drank a lot more than he intended. The crogall nodded approvingly.

“Good. That is protein-lactose-sugar water. Warm-bloods like it. We know this.”

It wasn’t a question, but Loki nodded anyway. “Thank you,” he said, wondering if the crogall got their knowledge of mammals from observing infants. The woman still had her gripping tentacles wrapped around Loki’s middle, and she was standing too close for comfort on her double-kneed legs. Despite that, the milk had calmed him down, or perhaps it was just the simple act of being fed. He raised to the bottle again and drank some more.

“Drink it all. You need your strength today.”

Loki coughed and dribbled some of the milk down his chest. The tentacles tightened almost imperceptibly around his waist and Loki hurriedly wiped the mess off his skin and drank some more. As soon as he was done, the bottle was taken from his hands and the chain reattached.

“What are you going to do with me?” Loki had to ask. "If you return me to my brother, Thor of Asgard, he will pay ..."

The creature gave an exasperated hiss and wrapped her slender tendrilled tentacles around Loki’s body too, over and around her broader gripping appendages. Loki's feet left the ground and she squeezed him all over with a contented shiver.

“We are happy you are here with us, little one, but we will not be helping you escape your owner. You know such an idea is nothing but foolishness."

Loki was forced to admit that she was right. The Grandmaster was on his ship, docked with this one, traveling through interstellar space. There was no chance of escape. The crogall woman squeezed him a little more, compressing his chest until it was hard for him to draw breath.

"We have not had one such as you for a long time. We have many mated pairs who wish to implant their eggs. Now it is more important than ever for us to breed.”

“Breed?” Loki said, struggling in her grip, fighting until she let him down and unwrapped the outer layer of tentacles to let him calm down. “Eggs? What...what do you mean? We are not the same species...you can’t...you can’t breed me!”

“You misunderstand. But you will understand soon enough. Do not be afraid, it is a great honor to carry the young of the crogall!”

“But..” Loki tried to twist away, but found his arms bound to his sides by the creature’s upper tentacles. She compressed him again, the seemingly spongy tentacles actually nothing but hard muscle.

"Just wait," she said soothingly, "A moment more and you will feel much better."

Loki opened his mouth to argue but a wave of dizziness washed over him. The room spun around him and he his skin prickled with heat. “The milk.” he said, realizing why he was suddenly limp in her arms, despite the horror of what she had told him.

“Clever little warm-blood.” She did not bother to deny that the milk had been drugged. Why would she? It was not as though Loki could do anything about it anyway. “It will help you relax.”

Loki could hardly control himself, the drug was racing through his system, weakening his muscles and clouding his mind. If he had not been held up by the tentacles wrapped around him he was have collapsed to the sticky floor. “I don’t want to relax,” he protested, words slurring on his pierced tongue.

“Yes, you do.” The crogall woman was implacable. “You _do_ want to relax, little warm-blood. I will prepare you for the first breeding.”


	17. Bred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo....does anyone here like tentacle-alien breeding rituals? You do?? Well I have a treat for you!
> 
> (Tags are updated - I do try to tag accurately, if I miss anything please let me know. Thanks to folks who reminded me on the last chapter.)

Loki fought, then, but it was no use. The drugs had him in their dulling teeth and his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. Even the panic that should have been surging through him was lifeless and subdued. When vines extruded from the sticky floor and ceiling and wrapped around Loki's arms and legs, the fight drained out of his body as quickly as it had arrived. Loki hung suspended as more and more vines curled around his limbs and body, until he was swaddled as tightly as a new-born babe.

The crogall woman watched the proceedings carefully, unwinding her own tentacles from around Loki's body as the vines covered him. She checked that nothing wound around his neck or compressed his chest too tightly. Loki felt almost weightless in the grip of the vines. The combination of the drugs and the tight binding made him float, as though he were suspended in water, not in air.

He let his head fall to his chest. Whatever the crogall wanted to do with him they were clearly going to do. The Grandmaster had given him over to them as payment for their journey, and his own wishes were utterly irrelevant.

The crogall woman had called the Grandmaster Loki’s _owner_ , and that word seeped into Loki’s brain like poison. Was the Grandmaster his owner? Was he a slave? He had thought himself a prisoner, a captive, a hostage, but was that the truth? Loki had undoubtedly committed crimes on Sakaar - helping Thor steal the Grandmaster’s ship for one - but he had been given no trial and no sentence. The Grandmaster had punished him, while pretending it was all an enjoyable game. He had had Loki raped hundreds of times. He had altered his body. He had drugged him, given him to Lennesshar as a prize, and had now given him to Kuuth as breeding stock.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, his mind blanking out on the obvious conclusion. It was not that he did not want to face it, but that he simply could not. It was an overwhelming realization that his situation was far worse than he had known. Not just his immediate situation, stripped and wrapped in vines, bound to the floor and ceiling of the hive-ship breeding-room, which was bad enough, but also his long-term prospects. Loki had expected his life to be filled with ups and downs; travels, battles, love, laughter, loss and longing. Had that all now been stolen from him and turned into nothing but a life of slavery, of being a body at his owner’s command? Was this his existence, now and forever?

The crogall woman walked around and wiped the tears from Loki's face, her tendrils strangely gentle on his skin.

“Do not be afraid. Is it not our wish to hurt you.”

Loki choked on a hysterical laugh, his tongue loosened by the drugs. “Kuuth hurt me. There were three of them and they all hurt me.”

The woman nodded, her reptilian face grave. “I was there,” she said, wiping his face again. With Loki suspended off the ground, they were of the same height. Face to face, Loki looked into her slotted eyes and found a trace of sympathy there. “I saw what they did. The captain had little more choice in it than you did, warm-blood. The Grandmaster of Sakaar is not a being to displease or deny, no? We must all play his games.”

“You don’t have to to do _this.”_ Loki struggled against the bindings stretching him spread-eagle in the air. The vines covered his arms, chest, and belly as well as his legs up to his thighs, leaving the middle of him bare. He knew why, of course. He knew the parts of him that still had worth and the parts that didn’t. His ass and his hole was the most valuable part of him now.

“This must be done,” the woman said flatly. “We crogall were few enough before, and now we are half that number. We must breed, or we will die.”

“Half? What happened?”

The woman's eyes narrowed. “The same thing that happened everywhere. Now, no more questions, little one. I will prepare you, and then the captain and his mate will come.”

“Loki. My name is Loki. If you’re going to - “ Loki paused and choked down a hiccuping sob, “ - if you're going to do this, at least call me by my name, please.”

“Loki.” The woman moved behind him, out of his sight. “My name is Muugzi.”

Loki could not see behind him, as the vines blocked his view. He was facing the back wall with the open door behind him. He shuddered at the obscene display he must make. Anyone coming through the door would see his spread thighs and his ass presented to them. His purpose, as ever, could not be more clear.

Muugzi got to work, and by now Loki was accustomed to being prepared for use. The lubricant Muugzi used was warmed, and she did not skimp on it. She worked him open with her long, slender tendrils before moving on to using her thick gripping pads, working them in and out, loosening him up until his ass and thighs were slick with lubricant.

Loki just hung there while she readied him. He stared at the wall, disconnected from what was happening to his body. He would rather not think about what was coming. He knew it would not just be a fucking. That he could handle, no matter how brutal it was, because he knew it would be over. This was something else. The crogall were going to breed him. He still did not understand how that was possible, but Muugzi was confident that it was going to happen.

Muugzi fondled the heavy ring behind his balls with a curious hiss. “What is this for?”

“Please don’t.” Loki squirmed in the vines, but he could not close his spread legs or wriggle even a single inch out of Muugzi’s reach.

Muugzi hissed again, and as if responding to her command the vines twisted and rearranged themselves. More vines extruded from the round walls with a wet sucking sound. They wrapped around Loki’s waist to pull him towards the door and tugged his arms and legs forward, bending him over to make Muugzi’s inspection easier. She slipped a tentacle between his legs and touched the ring in his cock.

“This one too. And these.” The rough gripping pads of her thicker tentacles, still slick with lubricant, pressed down on his pierced nipples. Loki shut his mouth, praying to the Norns that she had not noticed the heavy stud in his tongue or his replaced teeth. She rubbed the pads of her tentacles against his nipples and he knew he had to answer her. If he didn't, she would probably start pulling on them, and that would only be worse.

“They are for decoration,” he blurted out, unsure if that was correct or if they had other, darker purposes. “The Grandmaster did it to me. I don’t - _please_ \- I don’t like it when you touch them.”

Muugzi hissed again but she let him go, the piercings hyper-sensitive after her touch.

“If we did not need you for breeding, little Loki, I would like to play with you myself.”

Loki struggled weakly in his tight bindings, her casual words cutting through the haze of the drugs. “I don’t want that! I don’t want any of this!”

“It is not up to you,” Muugzi reminded him calmly. “Your owner has given his permission.”

Loki had no response to that, because he knew it was true. He was cut off from his magic, the obedience disk was embedded in his neck, and he was on a ship in the vast emptiness of space with no friends or allies. He was under the Grandmaster’s control and Muugzi was right. If the Grandmaster gave permission for Loki to be bred, or played with, then that is what would happen.

Muugzi let the silence linger between them after that, but she still checked him over attentively, seeming not to hold his refusal against him. She made sure again that none of the vines were pinching or cutting off circulation, and then she gave his ass an affectionate pat in farewell.

“I will return after the session to make sure you are well.”

Loki had no answer to that, and he listened to door hiss closed when she departed. He was left there alone, hanging suspended, wrapped in vines, readied and displayed for breeding. There was nothing he could do but wait.

***

He was left for a long time, and by some miracle he was dozing in his restraints when the door opened and jerked him back to wakefulness.

_“Hello again, little Loki.”_

It was Kuuth. Loki bit his lip, shaking his head involuntarily. He tried to turn and see the captain behind him but the vines were too thick. He could not see, but he could feel. Male crogall had six tentacles instead of the four the females had. Their thicker gripping tentacles were split high up, and each branch worked independently. In a moment of ridiculous clarity, Loki supposed the designation male and female did not apply to the crogall, not if they could breed with other species, or, as Muugzi had seemed to imply, that they _needed_ other species in order to breed.

Ducking around the vines, massive in the confined space of the small breeding-room, Kuuth moved around to face Loki. Loki realized with a shiver that there were two crogall in the room with him, Kuuth and another. When the door hissed closed, the room was so confined that they were all touching.

Kuuth was big, much bigger than Muugzi. He was so tall that the triple row of short horns on the crown of his head brushed the ceiling. Whoever was behind Loki seemed smaller; it must be Kuuth’s mate.

Every other room on this ship had been large, Loki had no idea why the breeding room was so small. He was breathing the same air as these creatures who were here to violate him, and he hated it. He tried to hold his breath, to tip his head away from Kuuth, but doing that just put him closer to the crogall behind him.

Kuuth’s tongue flicked out from his flat mouth, tasting the air, and he hissed in pleasure.

“What are you going to do to me?” Loki could not stay silent any longer, and the unspeaking creature behind him was setting his nerves on edge.

Kuuth rubbed his jaw against Loki’s face, first one side and then the other, before he answered.

“My mate Kera will implant her eggs,” he said, his eyes narrowing, rapturous at the thought. “Then I will fertilize them.”

As Kuuth spoke, Loki felt the vine and tentacles unwrapping from his lower half, freeing his legs and leaving him hanging from his arms. Not for long, though. The upper vines reached down and helped the two crogall reposition him. They lifted his legs up, knees to his chest, his ankles spread and pulled up to meet his wrists. Vines and tentacles wrapped around and around him, binding him into a tight bundle in that position. He was folded in half, squeezed and compressed and barely able to breathe. His muscles screamed at the stretch. Loki was flexible, but this was not a position he would ever voluntarily assume. This, of course, was not voluntary, and so he was forced to comply. Less than a minute later Loki was almost entirely covered, vines twining together with the appendages of the captain and his mate. His ass, as always, was left bare and accessible. Ready for use.

Loki felt a searching touch against his skin. At first he thought it was another tentacle but Kuuth’s words echoed in his head and he knew that it was Kera’s ovipositor. Kuuth's mate was going to implant her eggs in him, and Loki was sickened and horrified at the idea of it. He tried to fight, to resist, but he was too tightly bound in vines and tentacles. He could not move at all, he was utterly helpless, just as he had been in the Grandmaster’s rape-box. He clenched his muscles, trying to buy time, but Muugzi had prepared him too well. Kera's fat appendage slipped into him without resistance, and Loki cried out at its muscular squirming as it found its way inside him.

“No!” he begged, his voice a strangled sob, “Please, don’t do this!”

Kuuth held him, squeezing him until his joints cracked. Any tighter and Loki's hips were going to dislocate. He lost his breath, stars dancing before his eyes.

“Do not fight, little Loki. You will tire yourself and stress the hatchlings.”

More tentacles wrapped around Loki. They were seemingly endless, twining and tangling together. Kera's tentacles reached around them both, pulling Kuuth tightly against Loki. Kuuth’s tentacles did the same to Kera, until they were all three of them bound together, all moving together as one. Loki was in the middle, shared between the mated pair like a slow pendulum. First, Kera’s ovipositor swelled and rippled as she implanted an egg, and then she pulled out and made way for Kuuth to fertilize it. Kuuth's cock was like another tentacle, muscular and self-directed, worming its way up inside Loki’s intestines to find the egg, pumping and pulsing as he spilled his seed. Then it was Kera’s turn again.

Back and forth, Loki was used over and over, the three of them remaining tightly bound together. The enclosed space heated up and the air grew thick. The two crogall grew more passionate, murmuring to each other, exchanging affectionate touches as they bred Loki. They braced against the round walls of the enclosed breeding room, holding the vines for balance and support as they thrust into him until Loki could no longer tell them apart and he could not tell which one was using him. He was faint with the heat, and the compression of his chest made it even harder to breathe. He was taken again and again, egg after egg, each one carefully placed and then lustfully fertilized. He hung limp in his bondage, his head lolling back on his shoulder, his ankles bound to his wrists. The pair using him were too occupied with each other and with their breeding ritual to pay him much mind.

When at last they were done, when the final egg was implanted and fertilized, Kuuth and Kera unwound their tentacles from Loki and wound them back around each other. The bundle of three became a bundle of two. The crogall rubbed their jaws together, first one side and then the other, drunk on their own pleasure and the intensity of their copulation.

They left Loki hanging from the ceiling by wrists and ankles, vines holding him in his breeding position. Kuuth’s copious seed dripped from his raw ass, and his guts were tightly packed with alien eggs. He was too sick and weak to even cry.


	18. Tended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy at work this week! Quick chapter to keep things moving...
> 
> Tags are updated!

Loki must have passed out at some point, weak from the abuse and lack of oxygen. When he regained consciousness, Kuuth and Kera were gone and Muugzi was in the room. He tried to fill his lungs with oxygen but could only manage a strangled gasp - he was still in the breeding position.

"Let me down," Loki said, already half-way to begging. He could barely breathe, his knees were still bound to his chest by vines, his wrists and ankles wrapped together and suspended from the ceiling. His muscles were spasming and his hips and shoulders felt as though they were about to dislocate from the strain.

Muugzi wrapped him in her gripping tentacles and lifted him a fraction of an inch. It eased the pressure at least enough for him to breathe and stay conscious, but she made no move to release him.

"Please," he said, struggling hopelessly in the tightly bound vines. "Please, Muugzi. Let me down."

She shook her flat head. "It is best for the hatchlings if you do not move yet."

Loki moaned in despair. The position was tortuously painful, but it was also desperately humiliating. He was bound with his legs spread, his intimate core on display and obviously well used. He would have thought he was used to humiliation by now, but each time it was a fresh horror.

Muugzi hissed at him, flicking her tongue to make a rhythmic sound as though Loki were a child. She lifted him a little more and used her smaller manipulative tentacles to massage his joints.

"How long." Loki tolerated her touch, as he had no choice in the matter, but he would not make the mistake of thinking her a friend. She may be responsible for his physical condition but that did not make her an ally. She was just as complicit in this as Kuuth himself. She tended to him as the farmer tends to the the livestock, nothing more.

"I will check."

Before Loki could object, Muugzi had slipped her tentacle under the vines and pressed down on his distending belly. Loki could feel the eggs inside him pushing on his internal organs, making space for themselves in his body. He tasted bile at the back of his throat and wanted to vomit.

"Not much longer, they are strong. You are a good brood-host, Loki." She said it as though Loki should be pleased, but he could not bring himself to perform that role for her. She knew he was unwilling, and Loki would not grant her the comfort of a lie.

After the silence had done on long enough, Muugzi held up another bottle, bringing it to Loki's lips. Loki turned his head away when he smelled milk.

“No. Water.”

Muugzi shrugged and set the bottle aside. “Later, then.”

“Water,” Loki insisted, but Muugzi ignored him. She prodded at his stomach again, her tendrils pressing down, feeling the eggs with a pleased hiss. The sensation of the alien eggs shifting and moving inside him made his skin crawl, but Loki could not escape her examination. He stared up at the sticky, vine covered ceiling and ground his teeth.

He only had to endure this until they reached Midgard. Once he was returned to the Grandmaster, Loki would rid himself of these eggs by whatever means necessary. He would not be used as an incubator for the crogall’s spawn. They could breed him but they couldn’t make him carry the eggs, not once he was off their ship.

Loki was sure the Grandmaster would not care either way. Probably he would not even notice Loki had been impregnated. Loki decided he would not say anything about it, he would just do it. He would get those cursed eggs out of his body and the hatchlings could go to hel for all he cared.

When Muugzi had finished her examination she offered Loki the milk again. He refused it - it would be drugged and he was not going to play that game anymore. Muugzi unwrapped her tentacles and let Loki's wrists and ankles take his full weight, unhappy that he would not drink.

She tried to reason with him. "Loki, if you do not take sustenance, the hatchlings will need to find sustenance elsewhere.”

Loki did not respond, but her words settled uneasily in his mind, sending unpleasant ripples out into his thoughts.

Muugzi patted Loki’s stomach again, rubbing in a slow, firm circle. “The hatchlings are strong, and they are implanted inside your digestive system. You must feed them or they will feed on you. Once you start to feel pain it will be too late, they will already be absorbing nutrients from your body.”

Loki shuddered, disgusted and horrified. So, if he did not nurture these alien creatures, they would devour him from the inside, instead? He was more determined than ever to destroy these unwanted parasites as soon as he could. But for now, it seemed he had no choice. Reluctantly, he turned his head back towards the crogall woman and let her tip it the bottle his mouth, feeding him like a calf drinking its mother's milk. She made encouraging little noises as he drank, and each one lit a fire of anger in his body. She may treat him like a child, like an animal, but he was not one. She would learn her mistake.

When the bottle was empty, he let her lower it from his lips and then spat the last mouthful of drugged milk in her face.

“I drank it. Now go away. Leave me alone.”

Muugzi wiped her face, her reptilian eyes narrowed. Her calm, placid expression faded away, replaced by pure poison. Her tentacles coiled like whips as she grabbed Loki in a vice-like grip. She leaned on him, adding her weight to his own, his joints cracking and his muscles and tendons screaming as he was pulled down.

"If you don't like me," she hissed, her tongue tasting the air inches from his face, "I can arrange other company for you. I can leave you hanging here until we arrive at Midgard, if that's what you want, little one. I can have you bred by every fertile crogall pair on this ship! They can all smell you and it's driving them wild! How many more eggs do you think could fit in your belly? I could let them use your mouth too. It's possible, although not an advisable use for an air-breather. Is that what you want?"

Loki was almost relieved that Muugzi had shown her true colors. She was just as bad as the rest of them, and now neither of them had any need to pretend.

"I...want...you...to...leave." Loki managed to choke out the sentence, sure that his shoulders were about to pop out of their joints.

"You will regret it." The crogall woman let him go, unwrapping his body from her crushing embrace and stepping back. She still wore the control device around her neck, but now she took it off, looping it back around Loki's neck. He could not reach it with his hands bound, of course. She was just taunting him, and her nasty smirk gave away her satisfaction.

"Call me when you're ready to beg for mercy." Muugzi picked up the empty milk bottle and walked out, leaving the door open.

Loki caught his breath, sniffing back his pained tears and wiping his face on his shoulder. A warm breeze from the open door behind him played across his bare flesh. He shifted in his bonds, trying to find a less agonizing and less vulnerable position, but it was impossible.

Muugzi's threat prickled at the edge of his consciousness. Loki wondered if his actions had been altogether wise. He could hardly think straight, and he knew his judgement was impaired. Muugzi was a deceitful caretaker, to be sure, but she had been all he had. Now he was alone here, with no defense at all. Had Muugzi really been all that was standing between him and being bred by a dozen more pairs of crogall? Surely not, not when he had already been filled with the captain's spawn. They would not dare. Would they?

Loki's stuffed belly churned as he second-guessed himself and his imagination began to spin out of control. A shuffling noise in the passageway caught his attention, and he tried to twist around and see behind him, but the vines easily held him, repositioning and tightening as he squirmed.

"Who's there?" Loki called, his voice coming out at a higher pitch than he would have liked.

There was no reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it seem pretty bleak for Loki right now but it's actually not going to turn out all bad, so don't give up hope!


	19. Shared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's me! I'm still around, been a rough week. Super busy at work, stressed out at home trying to figure out what school looks like this year for my kids, plus I am starting audio production on my third book The Arcane Heart, which is as awesome and horrifying as you might expect, hearing your own work performed OUT LOUD by a professional voice actor. I will have free audio codes for that, anyone who wants one can sign up on my mailing list at carolinegibsonbooks.com (you also get my monthly newsletter with whatever non-fanfic stuff I'm working on).
> 
> So lots going on! But I always had at the back of my mind that I left Loki hanging up in the breeding chamber with the door open and of course I had to tell you all what happens next, so here we go!

Loki didn’t keep count after the first pair - there was no point. The first male into the room had taken the control device and blinded him again. After that, Loki had no way to know who was there, who had already used him and who was waiting their turn.

None of the newcomers took as long as Kuuth and Kera had done, but each pair used him in the same way. They wrapped him in their tentacles, and pumped eggs and seed into him one after the other. Loki, pressed between them, forced into the breeding position by vines and tentacles, was nothing to them but a receptacle for their spawn. None of them spoke to him, or acknowledged him as a person at all.

At some point, one of the pairs had grown irritated with his helpless cries and wrapped the vines around his face. They grew and fattened until his mouth was filled and he could only let out muffled whimpers. After that, even if he had wanted to call for Muugzi’s mercy, he would not have been able to.

He didn’t want to, though. Loki was not going to beg her for anything. He would endure this, and when it was over he would destroy each and every one of the eggs that infested his body. He closed his blinded eyes and hung in his restraints in the stifling hot room, used over and over. He was so stuffed with alien spawn that he could taste it at the back of his throat.

The next time Loki was aware of his surroundings, he was lying on the sticky floor of the breeding room, his limbs a tangle of twitching muscle and screaming pain as the circulation returned. Muugzi was there, roughly massaging his joints, and Loki used what little energy he had left to roll over and turn his back to her. As he rolled, his belly dragged at him, heavy and distended. Under his stretched-out skin, the eggs roiled and churned, packed so tightly that even lying down like this, Loki could not draw a full breath.

He swallowed bile, dizzy with horror at what had become of him.

“Get up.” Muugzi had lost all trace of sympathy in her tone. “Get up, we have arrived and your owner is awaiting your return.”

Loki struggled to sit up, awkward and off-balance. He had been held in the same position for so long that his joints felt like ground glass, and his every movement was agony.

He took a deep breath but choked on it as his lungs refused to inflate all the way, ending up back on the floor, curled up, wheezing for breath.

"You should have called for me," Muugzi hissed. "This is your own fault."

Loki ignored her. He could hear hesitation in her tone now as she realized that she would pay the price if Loki was not returned to the Grandmaster in one piece, as had been agreed.

"Water," Loki said, his voice a parched croak. A bottle was pushed into his hand, but it was more of the drugged milk. He threw it against the wall, savagely satisfied at the glugging sound of it spilling onto the floor.

"Water!" he said, his voice rising, "I said _water_ you stupid creature!"

"Your owner is waiting..."

"Then he can wait! You should have thought of that before you let your crew fuck me half to death! And give me back my sight."

Muugzi hissed and clicked the controller. Loki’s eyes burned like fire as his vision returned. He glared at Muugzi, but he did not look down at himself. He did not want to see the results of the breeding-frenzy written on his body.

The crogall woman flicked her tongue at him. "If you do not drink the milk..."

"Water!" Loki roared at her. He knew what she had said about the eggs needing sustenance, but as this moment he did not care. Everything about him was revolting; he was covered in sweat and semen, the bitter taste of the vine lingered on his tongue, and his guts ached and cramped with the weight of the crogall eggs. Loki needed water, or he was going to throw up or pass out. Maybe both.

Muugzi's tendrils lingered over the control device, perhaps considering if she should just punish him for his insolence and drag him to the airlock, rather than negotiate with him.

Loki stared her down. "If you use that thing on me, you'll be using it on your precious hatchlings as well."

Muugzi decided against it. Instead she took the path of least resistance and stomped off, returning a few minutes later with another bottle that contained musty, room temperature water.

Loki drank half of it and dumped the other half over his head, washing off the surface layer of filth that covered him. It helped him get himself under control, at least a little.

When he had done that, Muugzi produced another bottle from behind her back. "Drink this too," she asked, almost pleading as she held it out to him. "You are right. Your fate is bound to the hatchlings now, a new generation of the crogall is within you. You want to live and so do they."

Loki let his palms rest on his distended belly. The constant movement of the eggs inside him was making him queasy, as though he were a boat rocked by the ocean. But the water had calmed him enough to think clearly. He wanted to live, still. Despite everything he had suffered and everything he probably would suffer in the future, he wanted to live. He was far less concerned about the fate of the crogall hatchlings, but he kept that to himself.

After due consideration, Loki took the bottle and drank the milk, ignoring Muugzi's satisfied hiss as he did so.

When that was done, Loki struggled to his feet and walked. His heavy belly dragged him forward and set him off-balance. He pressed his palms to his back, trying to support the awkward new weight while also trying to not to think too deeply about what it was. It was a difficult feat, and Loki did not quite manage it, swallowing bile as the mass of eggs stretched and rippled against his skin. His own body was disgusting to him, and if he could have crawled out of his own stuffed skin, he would have.

Loki stood inside the airlock with Muugzi at his back, one tentacle wrapped firmly around his upper arm. They didn’t speak, and Loki bit his tongue with the effort of keeping his mouth shut. He badly wanted to tell her that the crogall had not defeated him, that he would have their _new generation_ out of his belly and in hel before the next day had passed, but he did not. He could not risk it. He could not risk the Grandmaster finding out his intentions and making the decision for him. No, silence would be his revenge. Silence, and then ending the next generation of crogall.

The heavy door ahead of them opened, and Topaz stepped through, her habitual sneer on her face. She held out her hand for the control device and just like that, Loki was passed back to the Grandmaster. His hips ached and his gait was unsteady as he stopped over the airlock threshold, back in the gleaming white interior of the Sakaaran vessel. He looked around, but the Grandmaster was not on his throne.

Topaz followed him back onboard after a few whispered words with Muugzi. The airlock closed behind her with a solid thud, and the clean, comparatively fresh air of the ship started to circulate.

Topaz looked Loki up and down, taking in his sticky and slick skin, his dripping wet hair, his newly fat belly, and the ligature marks all over his body from the vines. She rolled her eyes and visibly decided that none of that was her problem. The flight controls lit up under her hands as she spoke over her shoulder.

“He’s waiting for you in back.”


	20. Reunited

Without a word, Loki went to the narrow cabin he had used before. He would face the Grandmaster, but first he would deal with his problem.

In the bathroom he glanced in the mirror, then recoiled with a cry and banged his head on the opposite wall. Loki had forgotten about the tattoos that decorated his face, and despite the return of his vision, his eyes were still milky white. Somehow, he had expected to see his old familiar face looking back at him, the face of a prince, not the face of an exhausted, impregnated whore.

Loki forced himself to stand up and face the mirror. His dark hair hung limply around his tattooed face and his white eyes stared back at him. Loki skimmed his fingertips over the heavy rings in his nipples and genitals. He opened his mouth to look at his teeth, running his tongue over the replacements that had been screwed into his jaw. They were gold, like the rings, the size of teeth but smooth and rounded. Loki stared for a long time, his hands cupped over his belly, supporting the new weight and easing the ache of his back. This is what he was now. The reality of it sank in, soaking into his bones. He had to face it, or it would always be a trapdoor beneath his feet.

He could never go back to what he had been. All his life, Loki had never been able to regain what he had lost. He could only move forward, pushed from behind by the current of fate, and find what future awaited him.

Loki dug his nails into his flesh, small points of pain that helped him focus on the present. The past was done, and the future was unknown. All he could do was breathe when the tide chanced to throw him up on the beach, and rest before the sucking waves dragged him back beneath the surface again.

 _Stay focused_ , he muttered under his breath. _Stay focused. Stay focused. You know what you have to do._

He turned the water on in the small shower cubicle. The room filled with steam, and the smell of hot water, after days of milk and lubricant and semen made Loki’s breath catch in his throat. He stepped under the spray, holding the sides of the small booth as his heavy belly tried to unbalance him. It was awkward to wash himself, but the hot water did most of the work in washing the accumulated filth of the crogall off his body. He did not linger about that task. He had another, more important one to perform.

He crouched on the floor of the shower, water running over his back. Faced with the reality of ridding himself of the eggs infesting his body, he found he did not know how to start. He eased a soaped finger inside himself and shuddered in disgust as he touched slick, round globes, clustered right at his entrance.

The eggs were soft, like balls of firm jelly, and it was impossible for Loki to get a grip on them. He could barely reach around his belly to feel them, and he knew he was taking too long. The Grandmaster was waiting for him, but now he had started he could not stop. He had to get them out. His skin crawled as his fingertips explored his packed insides. It was revolting, disgusting. He needed to clean them out.

Loki crawled out of the shower on his hands and knees and rummaged through the bathroom cabinets. He needed an implement, a tool of some kind to help himself. He searched, even as a small, sane part of himself knew it was impossible. What kind of tool could he hope to find? Even if he could dig out a dozen of those evil things, there were hundreds inside him, most of them too high up in his guts for him to reach.

Giving up that search, instead Loki wrapped his arms around his middle and squeezed, crushing his belly. He almost screamed from the pain of it. His stretched-out insides bulged as the eggs shifted, tugging and pulling his intestines with them. Stars danced in front of Loki's eyes and he could not breathe, but still he held on. He leaned forward, panting heavily, folding himself over his belly, crushing the eggs further, forcing them to bunch up. He prayed to the Norns that the pressure would detach them from where they had lodged and force them out of him. He strained his muscles to no avail; all he did was hurt himself. The eggs were embedded inside him, and would not easily be dislodged.

Loki collapsed to the deck and pounded his fists against it, furious and desperate. How to rid himself of these parasites? Loki rolled onto his back and turned his fists on himself, punching his belly, vicious, not caring that dark bruises bloomed under his fists.

“Out, out, out!” He panted to himself, in time with his fists. “Get out!”

_“Get out? I just came in, sweetheart!”_

Loki froze, his blood cold, his wits coming back to him like an icy wave breaking over his head. He was laying naked on the floor of the cramped bathroom, sobbing and beating himself. He was giving away his every secret to the being of unimaginable power who controlled his life, his fate, and his future.

He rolled over and scrambled to his feet, ungainly and clumsy, breathless and dizzy from pain.

“Grandmaster!”

The Grandmaster was there, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom, casually blocking Loki in. He held one hand his hip, the other tapped at his painted lip.

“There’s something different about you, sweetheart.” He smiled, a sly grin that chilled Loki to his core.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” was all Loki could think to say. He took a step back, bumping up to the shower door, his hands holding his belly.

“You look anxious, darling. Are you worried about something? You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything! Why don’t you, hmm, why don’t you come with me and we can talk about it?” He stepped back from the doorway and crooked his finger for Loki to follow. With no other option, Loki did.

The Grandmaster took him to the stateroom and closed the door behind them. In such close quarters, Loki could feel the Grandmaster’s elder-power pressing against him, running up against his nerves like a salt-coated feather.

“Lie down, sweetheart, relax.” The Grandmaster stretched out on the large bed and patted the spot next to him.

Loki climbed up and lay on his back, rigid with nerves. He did not know what would come next. A finger with a painted nail poked at his belly, and Loki bit his lip, tears forming in his eyes.

“So, you, er, you’ve gotten yourself in a bit of trouble, hmm? Gotten a little bit, well, knocked up? You’ve got a bun in the oven. Well, a few buns, it looks like.” The Grandmaster laughed at his own joke, and Loki nodded, miserable tears running down his face.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Loki said, his voice low. For some reason, his hands crept back to his belly, holding and supporting the weight of it, the heat of his hands soothing the bruises he had just put there. He did not dare ask for what he knew the Grandmaster was capable of - to make it not have happened, to flick his fingers and vanish the eggs from existence. If he asked, he would be giving away his desire, and if the Grandmaster knew his desire, he would use it against him.

 _He already knows,_ Loki told himself. _Of course he knows, he just saw you trying to beat them out of yourself._

But he could not force the words out of his lips. It was too dangerous. The Grandmaster might decide to force him to carry the hatchlings to term, just to be contrary. Cold sweat broke out on Loki’s brow at the thought of birthing the creatures. What would _that_ look like? Would he even survive it? Loki had no idea.

A thumb wiped the tear from the corner of his eye. The Grandmaster’s face hovered over him carefully arranged into a concerned expression.

“Now now, sweetheart, there’s no need to cry. You’re still just as lovely as you were the day I met you.” The Grandmaster’s fingers traced the tattoos over Loki’s cheekbones and down over his jaw. “If not even lovelier.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” Loki tried to smile, as though he cared the slightest bit if his captor found him attractive or not.

“I suppose the crogall may have been a little hard on you,” the Grandmaster continued. He shook his head, as though regretting the ill-manners of the crogall, as though he himself had not been the one who had given Loki over to their uses. “But you’re tough, hmm? You’re just as right as rain now, I can tell.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” Loki felt himself carried by the current of the Grandmaster’s words, agreeing with everything he said. To disagree was unthinkable. To disagree was to deny reality as the Grandmaster saw it, and that would not be tolerated. The Grandmaster _defined_ reality, and reality itself would bend to his will.

“Well, sweetheart, pretty soon I’ll be heading down to the surface to set things right there. Do you think you want to come with me? A little trip to a planet might cheer you up, hmm? If you’re feeling up to it, of course.”

Loki’s breath caught in his chest. How to answer correctly? Not too eager, not too interested, but still grateful and humble enough to be allowed to come. If he did not get it right, he would left up in this ship, so close to the planet but impossible for him to reach. Close to his brother, but invisible to him. “Yes, please, Grandmaster. I would like that very much.”

“Mmm, I thought you would. Are you sure you’re not too worn out?”

“No, Grandmaster, I feel very well.”

A finger circled the gold ring in Loki’s left nipple.

“ _Very_ well?”

Loki knew at once what was required of him. He turned towards his captor, his face aching from his smile.

“ _Very_ well, Grandmaster.”

“Wonderful. Just wonderful. Come on then, sweetheart. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

And so Loki did. He did. He ignored the pain in his guts, the grind of his joints, and the heavy weight of exhaustion that dragged on him like chains. He climbed onto the Grandmaster’s lap, choosing that over offering his mouth, because the unknown function of the gold pegs in his jaw still frightened him. The Grandmaster held Loki's hips, his golden robe falling away and his cock nudging at Loki’s entrance, already slick and erect. All Loki had to do was let himself fall, let himself fall onto the waiting cock as he had fallen so far already. He was penetrated again, his body opening as though made for this use, trained for it by everyone that had used him up to this moment. The Grandmaster blinked and smiled as his cock pushed inside, nudging its way between the slick jelly-like eggs.

“Mmm, mmm, that's...ohh...yeah, that’s _tight_ in there sweetheart. That’s _very_ tight. You’re just...mmm...just packed to the gills. You’re sure there’s room in there for me?" He rolled his hips, his eyes alight, his power sparking and spinning against Loki's body. "Its _squelchy_. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a crogall brood-host before? That’s something to check off the old list, hmm?”

Loki tuned him out, let his demeaning words roll off him as best he could. Instead, Loki focused on breathing, on rising and falling in time with the Grandmaster’s hands on his hips, on blocking the churn of his stomach, the aching cramp in his belly as the Grandmaster’s cock made room inside him, pushing and rubbing against the eggs, pleasuring himself even more because of Loki’s stuffed guts. Loki did everything right, everything down to the misty eyed look of pleasure he forced onto his face, but it was not enough.

The Grandmaster hooked his little finger through the ring on Loki's cock and _pulled._ Loki sobbed, then, the dam inside him finally breaking as his captor used the ring to guide him up and down, leading him by his cock like a cow led by its nose. Loki almost passed out from the humiliation of it. His vision blurred and his heart stilled in his chest. Loki was breathless, drowning in shame and pain as the Grandmaster smiled, triumphant, and spilled inside him.


	21. Midgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of the weekend, hope you enjoy!

Loki awoke alone, sprawled out on the large bed in the Grandmaster’s stateroom. He must have fallen asleep after...he pushed the memory out of his head. Dwelling on it would not help him.

He ignored the aches in his body that were now his constant companions, and tried to roll out of the bed. He overbalanced and ended up on the floor on his hands and knees - he was not used to the weight of his belly pulling him forward with every step. Using the bed and the walls for support, he climbed back to his feet and went to find the Grandmaster. As much as he was afraid to be in his presence, Loki could not risk being left behind when the Grandmaster visited Midgard. Accompanying him there, as humiliating as that was likely to be, was Loki’s only possible chance of help.

He arrived onto the flight deck and stopped in his tracks as he saw the image on view-screen - green grass and tall, swaying trees. They were already on Midgard. The ship had landed while he had been sleeping - or perhaps unconscious - and they were on the ground, on the planet's surface. The ship was surrounded by a restless crowd of Midgardians, glaring and muttering among themselves. Loki looked closer, and saw some of the humans were clutching weapons.

The Grandmaster was unconcerned, seated on his throne, observing the scene. Loki could only imagine how he would react if someone attacked him with a projectile weapon. Amused for a moment, and then with a flick of his fingers the weapon and its bearer would be gone, and the Grandmaster would never think of them again.

Loki shivered, and hoped that for their own sake that the Midgardians could show restraint.

“Ah, there you are, sweetheart. Come here.”

Loki crossed to the Grandmaster’s side and quickly realized that he was supposed to take his place on the floor at the Grandmaster’s feet. He sat, naked as he was, and leaned his head against his captor’s thigh, closing his eyes as fingers ran through his hair.

He was not proud of himself, but he would take these moments of calm while he could get them.

It seemed that they were waiting for something, because no one spoke for what seemed like a long time. Loki cradled his belly in his hands, trying to ease the ache of his back. As soon as the Grandmaster noticed what he was doing, he walked his fingertips down Loki’s spine, erasing the pain and throbbing muscles as he went.

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” Loki spoke softly into the silence, surprised that his captor had even noticed his discomfort, never mind that he had done something about it.

By way of response, the Grandmaster handed him a cup, produced from thin air. “Drink up, hmm? You’re drinking for, oh, several dozen, at least!”

Loki sniffed the cup, his heart sinking as he smelled milk. Topaz flashed him a vicious smile over her shoulder, and Loki recalled her whispered conversation with Muugzi in the airlock.

Loki drank the milk, trying not to taste it as it went down.

After an indeterminate period of time, a vehicle appeared in the sky above them, traveling fast. Loki recognized the shape of the flying vehicles the Midgardians had used against him during his ‘invasion’. That seemed so long ago - his actions seemed distant, far removed from the person he was now. He doubted the Midgardians felt that way, though. For the first time, his eagerness to see Thor was tempered by wariness of what the Midgardians would want to do with him. He could only hope they were distracted by whatever calamity had befallen them, the same terrible disaster that had also befallen Sakaar and the crogall. Loki still did not know what had happened. In his role now he did not need to know, and so no one had told him.

The Midgardian ship landed opposite them, scattering the assembled mob back to the fringes of the open space they occupied. The back of the ship opened, and the figures that Loki had both longed for and dreaded, emerged.

The soldier led, still standing upright and proud, his garish shield on his arm. Following him was the spider, her face a still mask, and then the man of iron, red and gold armor covering his entire body. Thor came last. Loki’s breath stopped at the sight of the bright red cape fluttering behind him. His brother. Would Thor still claim him as such, or had his act of abandonment been his last, severing all ties?

Loki squeezed his hands together as the Avengers lined up facing the Grandmaster’s ship. He ground his own knuckles, fear, hope and anxiety all churning together in his belly, almost suffocating him.

The Grandmaster stood. “Well, here we go.”

Topaz rose too, the melt-stick in her hand as she stood at the Grandmaster’s shoulder. Loki scrambled to his feet, then paused.

“Grandmaster,” he ventured, “Please, may I dress before we leave?”

The Grandmaster looked at him, eyebrows raised. “What in the world for, darling?”

Loki stared back, at a loss for words. _What for?_ How could he possibly answer that question? The Grandmaster was as surprised at his request as if a _dog_ had asked to dress. Loki looked down at himself, the golden cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the piercings in his flesh, his swollen belly, the tattoos he knew decorated his face, and he had no answer.

“It is customary here, to dress,” he finally managed.

The Grandmaster tapped Loki’s nose with an indulgent smile. “Not for you,” he said, and of course, Loki could not argue with him. Reality aligned with his words, and so Loki would be naked.

The cold wind stung Loki's bare skin as they walked down the ramp onto the green grass of Midgard. Loki walked between and behind the Grandmaster and Topaz, his head lowered, trying not to think of how he looked to those watching.

“Loki!” Thor snarled at him, then fell silent. A moment later he repeated the word, this time as a horrified question. “Loki?”

Loki looked up, meeting his brother’s electric blue gaze with his own milky-white eyes. He let Thor see what had become of him, because what else could he do?

The Grandmaster halted a half-dozen paces away from the small group and held up one hand. “I am the Grandmaster of Sakaar,” he announced. “I come in peace.”

“I know who you are!” Thor replied, his hand tight around the haft of a huge uru axe that Loki had never seen before. “What are you doing here? What have you done to my brother?”

“Mmm yes, of course! First things first. I must say a sincere thank you for leaving Loki on Sakaar for me. He and I have really, _truly_ had a lot of fun together! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Loki looked Thor full in the face as he replied. “Yes, Grandmaster.”

The soldier was confused, looking between Thor, Loki and the Grandmaster. “You left him behind? I thought you said he betrayed you?”

“He did!”

The Grandmaster laughed, delighted. “Betrayed _you_? Oh my, that is too funny." He patted Loki affectionately on the ass. "He helped you steal my favorite ship and escape with my beloved champion, and you think he betrayed you?" The Grandmaster turned to Loki. "Is that why he left you for me, all helpless and packaged up like a perfect little gift?”

“He was _about_ to betray me. Loki, come here."

Loki did not move. The Grandmaster’s fingers lightly resting on his ass were as unbreakable as chains.

The iron man stepped forward. He flipped up the face-plate of his suit to show his face - older than Loki remembered, and newly lined with grief and weariness. “With all due respect Thor, your little brother isn’t important right now." He looked at the Grandmaster, his expression cautiously hopeful. "We lost four billion people. I assume you’re here to talk about that.”

Loki’s eyes widened in shock. _Four billion?_

“Indeed I am!” The Grandmaster clapped his hands together, eager to get down to business. “Now, it was the infinity stones, hmm?”

“It was.” The spider confirmed it with a nod, her face impassive.

“Well, that makes things a teensy bit complicated, but nothing that can’t be fixed, with the right touch.”

Thor brandished his axe. “Thanos himself wielded the stones, what makes you think you can undo what he did? This is not Sakaar. This is not your arena.”

Loki wanted to scream. Did Thor still truly not know who faced him? How could he not sense the raw power at the Grandmaster’s command? Did he think En Dwi Gast some mere godling, some equal of their own?

Of all of them, the man of iron held up his hand, light from his clear visor projecting data above his eyes. “Chill, Point Break. Our friend here can do it, if these readings are accurate."

The Grandmaster smiled and rocked back on his heels, pleased. “Oh, so _you’re_ the smart one. And from this little backwater planet, mmm? Well, well, I guess I’m never too old to be surprised. Yes, yes, I can do it, but I need to know exactly what happened. Every detail, if you please. Reversing this will not be easy.”

“Just who are you, anyway?” Thor could not keep his mouth shut. He could not accept that those around him knew more than he did.

“Tell him, sweetheart.” The Grandmaster’s firm hand on Loki’s ass pushed him forward, making sure that those across from them saw every inch of Loki’s naked body - his piercings and tattoos, the cuffs and his distended belly. Loki held his head up. Let them look. This is what Thor had left him to, when he abandoned him on Sakaar. He could see in the soldier's eyes that he did not approve of Thor's actions.

“This is En Dwi Gast, one of the elders of the universe,” he said, speaking the Grandmaster’s formal name for the first name. “He wields the primordial cosmic power. Thanos is an infant to him and so are all of us.”

Silence followed his words, as even Thor realized what kind of entity stood before them, and who he had left Loki to face alone.

“That’s a nice...heh...very nice introduction, darling. Now, why don’t you get on your knees for me, hmm? The grown-ups need to talk.”

Loki’s blood burned, and his heart thundered like a drum. His screaming thoughts floated above him, distant and muffled. It was impossible for them to break through the layer of humiliation that covered him like tar.

His knees slowly folded and he knelt at the Grandmaster’s feet, showing his true place before the Avengers and the people of Midgard. Damp grass tickled his knees. The crushed smell of it was curiously bright compared to the slow syrup of the rest of his senses.

Voices floated over his head, but Loki could not understand them. The occasional word came to him, but nothing he could grab onto. He was falling away even as he knelt there, vanishing from sight as though he were falling from the bifrost again, dark water closing over his head. Loki had been a fool to hold out hope that his brother would save him. Thor was out of his depth. He did not even recognize the power that arrayed against him, how could he hope to combat it?

Loki managed to focus when he heard his own name. Thor was speaking, the giant oaf. “I will have my brother returned to me.” His tone was sullen and surly. It was entirely the wrong attitude to deal with someone like the Grandmaster.

Fingers combed through Loki’s hair. “Oh, no, no. Sorry Sparkles, you had your chance and you threw it away. Quite literally, hmm? I think Loki deserves to be with someone who’ll _cherish_ him, like I do.”

Loki stared up at Thor, seeing the first hint of uncertainty on his face. As usual, Thor's first reaction to any problem was to brandish his weapon, and Loki saw his knuckles whiten and his arm begin to rise.

Then, the man of iron stepped forward, one hand on Thor's axe, easing it back down. Tony Stark, the Midgardian mortal, faced an elder of the universe without a trace of fear.

“Well, are you taking offers? Because Lolo here threw me out of a window, enslaved a friend of mine, killed seventy-six people in my city and invited an alien army here to party."

Stark walked forward, putting his back to Thor and the other Avengers. He lowered his voice so that only the small group that stood over Loki could hear.

"If you’re selling, I’m interested.”


	22. Loaned

“Stark.” Thor stepped forward, as though to pull the iron man back to the rank of avengers. Topaz lowered the melt-stick and strode forward to meet him. Thor, having seen what that thing could do with a single touch, wisely dropped back. His gaze was burning into Stark’s back, but the Midgardian seemed not to notice.

Sudden hope surged in Loki’s breast. If he was sold to Stark, his life would improve immeasurably. He would take his punishments from him, Loki had no doubt about that, but Midgard was a primitive place. Stark would punish him with pain, with the lash, with beatings. Probably Stark would put him to the uses he served now, as well. He would either take him for himself or give him to the same kind of public humiliation that he had suffered on Sakaar. Loki did not care, if it would get him away from the Grandmaster. Stark could hurt him, torture him, rape him, humiliate him, but he was not capable of the utter annihilation that the Grandmaster could perform. And perhaps, Loki allowed himself to hope, perhaps his brother would intervene with Stark to lighten the worst of his punishments.

Loki had to be very, very careful, however. He was still far from such safety, and one wrong move would doom him.

He dared to touch the Grandmaster’s gold-sandalled foot. “Please, Grandmaster,” he said, not having to force the terrified shake into his voice. “Please, don’t sell me. I want to stay with you.”

“Hush, darling.” A firm push on the back of his head forced Loki to his hands and knees, grovelling in the dirt as his fate was discussed above his head.

“Looks like you have him pretty well tamed,” Stark said, thoughtful. “Hope you left a little fun for the rest of us.”

The Grandmaster chuckled. “Oh, he’s tougher than he looks! You just have to motivate him, and then...heh...you’ll find he’s very eager to please.”

“Yeah, I bet. I don’t want to distract from your business here, Grandmaster, but if you have time to negotiate a side-deal, I’d love to host you for dinner tonight and show you what I can offer you for him.”

“Well, color me intrigued! You're an interesting fellow, hmm? Smart and bold, a good combination, but tell me...heh...do you really think this planet can offer me something that I’ve never seen before?”

“This planet? No. But me? Tony Stark, Iron Man, Merchant of Death? Yeah, actually. I _do_ think I can make you a tempting offer. So, dinner? We can fill you in on the infinity stones over the main course, and then you and I can talk dessert.”

Loki could almost feel the arrogance and pride radiating off Stark as Loki crouched at his feet, staring at his metal boots. He had no idea what Stark could offer that could entertain the Grandmaster himself, an elder being who had been alive almost as long as the universe itself. It was a dangerous game he was playing, and Loki could only hope it was one he would win.

Stark pointed out his tower, the glowing letter ‘A’ branding it against the other towers clustered around it. They agreed to meet there that evening, and to Loki’s utter shock and surprise, the Grandmaster offered to let Stark keep him until then.

“Consider it a sample,” he said with a benevolent chuckle, handing Stark the remote control device. “Have a little taste, hmm? See what you think he’s worth.”

Stark thanked him politely, and Loki was left staring at the green grass, hardly able to breathe from the weight lifting from his shoulders as the Grandmaster and Topaz strolled back to their ship, raised the ramp, and departed.

As soon as they were gone, Loki raised his head. He had little time to act, to convince Stark to go through with his plan before his brother interfered. Loki looked up at Stark, this mortal, conceited, but brilliant. Thor could not save him, but perhaps this one could, if Loki gave him enough reason to.

“Stark,” he said, clasping his hands together in the universal gesture of supplication. He spoke under his breath so only Stark could hear. “Stark, I beg you, I beg you, please, you will not want for a more obedient slave than I. I will serve your every whim. I will never complain, never refuse you, never cause you the slightest trouble…”

“Loki!” Loki stopped talking as Thor approached, but he held Stark’s gaze long enough to see the knowing look in his eye. Who would not want their former enemy on their knees before them, begging for their mercy? Loki was not afraid to beg. He was far more afraid that this taste of liberation would be snatched away from him that evening if Stark changed his mind about making an offer for him.

“Loki, get up. What are you doing?” Thor swished his crimson cape around Loki’s shoulders, but Loki waited for Stark’s slow nod before he stood and wrapped it around his body. The warmth of it was almost suffocating, heated from Thor’s body and set against Loki’s chilled skin.

“Let’s get to the tower.” Stark pointed Loki back to the avengers ship. Loki sat where he was told to sit, his fingers fumbling as he buckled the restraint belts over his belly. Loki kept his head down and his mouth shut. Stark was piloting the vehicle, and he probably would not want Loki to speak to any of the other avengers without his permission. He did not dare do anything to offend Stark. The ground under his feet was razor-thin ice, and one wrong word on his part would send him crashing back through it, plunging into the sucking tide beneath.

They rounded on him when they had landed and trooped inside Stark’s luxurious tower.

“Can he do it?” The soldier asked, getting right to the point. “Can he bring everyone back?”

Loki glanced up at Stark, but he was waiting for Loki’s answer as well. “Yes,” he said, clutching Thor’s red cape around himself. He had no way to hide his face, though, the tattoos and the obedience disk in his neck. He could only hope they did not notice the heavy piercing in his tongue, the flash of gold where his teeth should be. Or maybe he should hope that Stark _did_ notice, so that he would know more of the ways in which Loki could be used. Loki tried to breathe. That was not the question he had been asked. No one here cared about him, they cared about their losses - four billion lives. Of course that was more important than Loki’s miserable existence. He tried to give them the information they wanted.

“Yes, he can do it.” He confirmed, his voice a shade firmer. Loki still did not know the details of the loss they had suffered, but he had no doubt of the Grandmaster’s power. “En Dwi Gast is an elder of the universe, he can do almost anything you could imagine. He can control matter to the atomic level. He can reach through time itself. He is immortal, as far as it matters. There are others like him, but he is one of the few that still exists in a form we can understand.”

“How do you know this, brother? Why did you not warn me on Sakaar?” Thor’s brow wrinkled, his expression dissatisfied.

“Would you have believed me there, any more than you do now?” Loki snapped, then bit his tongue as his own harsh tone. It was not his place to speak in such a manner, and he needed to remember that. He took a deep breath. “I know it because I can sense it,” he explained, his voice under control once more. “I can feel his power against my every nerve. It burns like a furnace, Thor, how can you not feel it?”

Thor shifted, uncomfortable. Stark stepped out of his armor, smaller and slighter in person than he was in his metal suit. “Loki’s right,” he said shortly. “Friday, show them.”

Screen around them lit up, transparent and filled with data - the readings Stark had taken. Loki glanced at them, then realized it was not his concern, and looked away. Stark would tell him what to do next. He had a short time to impress the mortal, to convince him to buy Loki from the Grandmaster. He hoped Stark would have time to make thorough use of him before that evening, to give him a chance to demonstrate his eagerness to serve.

Stark let them all take in the data, and then said, “We need to impress tonight. Steve - prepare the files of what happened with Thanos. Every detail. Tasha - we need the fanciest dinner you can arrange, Friday will help. Thor - we’re going to have to put on a show tonight. You can join in if you think you can handle it, or you can head to the upstate training grounds and help with my demonstration.

Thor’s voice was a low growl. “What kind of show?”

Stark glanced in Loki’s direction, his meaning clear.

“I will not have you abusing my brother!”

Loki flinched. If Thor caused trouble, Stark may give up on his idea of claiming Loki. Stark was a powerful man - he could find his amusements elsewhere just as easily, and probably more cheaply.

Luckily, Stark did not seem too concerned. “Yeah, up to you man, but if you think he’s going to be worse off with me than with En Dwi Gast, you need to think again.” Stark tugged at Thor’s cape and Loki surrendered it to him at once. It fell in a crimson puddle around his feet, leaving him once again bare before their eyes.

“What is this, brother?” Thor’s large hand, surprisingly gentle, came to rest on Loki’s belly. Loki hung his head, and addressed his answer to Stark, swallowing down his humiliation.

“The Grandmaster gave me to a crogall hive-ship on the way here. They impregnated me with their eggs, and I could not - ” Loki paused, his breath gone. He gulped down air before he continued. “ - I could not get them out.”

Spoken like that, the truth of it seemed nothing too terrible. Nothing that could compare to the four billion Midgardian lives that hung in the balance, resting on the Grandmaster’s whim.

The avengers all looked at Thor, judgement in their eyes.

“I did not know!” Thor said, his eyes wide. “Loki, I did not know! I did not think…”

“That doesn’t matter.” Stark spoke over him, his tone harsh. “Loki’s here now and I think he can be useful. Thor, I’m going to try and trade for him unless for whatever reason you don’t want me to.”

Loki held his breath. Of course, Stark did not want to jeopardize his alliance with Thor. If claiming Loki would put that relationship at risk, he would throw Loki back into the ocean depths and find easier sport elsewhere.

Thor balanced on the decision for far too long. Eventually, he said, “I will have your word you will do Loki no harm.”

Stark shook his head at once, and rocked back on his heels. “It’s not going to work that way, big guy. The Wizard of Oz isn’t going to leave Loki with me for tea and crumpets, you know? If you don’t want to be around tonight, I get it. But if I'm going to do this, I’m not going to hold back.”

Thor’s axe handle creaked in his fist. Eventually he said, “Very well. I will leave you to your...preparations.”

Loki breathed again. Thor was not going to forbid his ally from buying him. The first hurdle had been overcome.

“Loki, a word.” Thor gestured to Loki to follow him, but Loki waited for Stark’s nod before he went. Stark had not given the cape back to him, so he left it crumpled on the floor and walked naked by Thor’s side. They stood before the room-height windows, looking out over the city that Loki had tried to conquer.

Thor looked at his axe, then back at Loki. “Brother, you must believe I did not know what the Grandmaster was capable of. I thought you about to betray me, betray Asgard and our people.”

Loki stared out of the window, avoiding focusing on his own reflection in the glass. Thor’s confession hardly mattered now. Loki had done what he had done, and he had paid the price for it. It was his own fault. He had always known Thor to act first and think later. Loki should not have given him the slightest reason to find suspicion in his plan.

All that mattered now, was that Stark wanted him. Loki did not care what purpose he might have. He would do anything at all the mortal desired if he would only get him away from the Grandmaster. All Thor had to do was to stay out of the way.

Thor spoke more words, but Loki could not hear them. He was floating again, his mind disconnected from his body, drifting. A few minutes later he watched Thor leap from the balcony and fly, vanishing into the distance in mere moments.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. It was Stark, of course. He had the control device hanging around his neck, and they were alone.

“Come with me,” Stark said, leading him away from the public rooms of his home and back towards the private areas.

Loki wondered briefly if he should show his humility by crawling on his hands and knees, but Stark was walking fast and would be irritated if Loki slowed him down. He walked instead, keeping a respectful distance.

Stark opened the door to a large, airy room and ordered Loki to enter. Loki obeyed, his heart rate increasing at the sight of the huge bed in the center of the room, the covers rumbled and disarrayed. This was Stark's bedroom. This was his _bed_.

Stark closed the door behind them with a solid thud, and the click of a lock engaging. He stood facing Loki, leaning on the door-frame, his arms folded, the control device within easy reach of his fingers. "Alright Loki, let me tell you the rest of your day is going to go."


	23. Inspected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I rewrote this chapter a bunch of time times, trying to get Tony right - please let me know if you like it!

Loki’s legs folded under him and he fell to his knees. He had so little time to convince Stark of his suitability for whatever role he thought Loki deserved. His hands shook and his eyes blurred with tears. He was desperate to hear Stark’s order so that he could obey it, but thundering of his pulse in his ears drowned out all other sound.

The floor swayed under him, and the walls and ceiling seeming to recede before his eyes. Loki put his hands on the floor to steady himself, and once he was on all fours he knew he should stay there. It was right. It is what Stark would want. Loki had committed crimes against him and against Midgard - Stark would want him broken.

 _Avenger_.

That was the name Stark had taken for himself. He would have his vengeance on Loki, and Loki would thank him for every blow.

Stark moved and Loki immediately lost track of his footsteps on the thick carpet. He dared to glance up but he couldn’t see his feet. Where was he? Had he already left? Had he given Loki some order that he had not even heard? The air in the room was thin, and Loki’s lungs strained with the effort of drawing breath. He blinked and as though appearing from thin air, Stark was standing in front of him. Loki bit down on his terrified whine and, acting purely on instinct, he dropped his head and kissed the floor before each of Stark's feet.

“OK, I get it.” Stark's impatient words cracked over Loki’s head like a whip. “I get it. En Dwi Gast is going to eat you alive if you don’t get out from under his thumb, and I’m the only option you've got. I get it. Message received. Now, breathe would you? I'm not going to - " Stark paused and seemed to chose his words carefully before continuing " - I'm not going to do anything _excessive_."

Loki tried to comply. He took slow, deep breaths that made his head spin, and did his best to look as though he had calmed down. Inside his chest, his heart was beating like a drum, fast and frantic.

Stark paced the floor, the control device thumping against his chest with every step.

Abruptly he stopped and turned back to Loki. "Is he watching us?”

Loki shook his head. "No," he said cautiously, "He does not need to watch."

Stark caught his careful phrasing. "He doesn't _need_ to watch? So, what, he just knows what's happening here?"

"Yes, he will know," Loki replied, hanging his head. It was true. He had no secrets from the Grandmaster. He would take one look at Loki and _know_ if Stark had used him well or not.

Stark paced again, passing backward and forward in front of Loki as he knelt before him. “What does he want? What's going to make En Dwi Gast think you’ll be going to a good home here?” Cold sweat formed on Loki’s brow. Surely Stark was not contemplating...what exactly _was_ he contemplating? Deceiving the Grandmaster?

Loki could not allow that idea to take root. The Grandmaster would not be fooled by any such tricks. He was the ultimate player of games, and he always won. If he allowed Loki to leave his side it would be because he considered the game to be over. Loki was a game-piece to him, and if leaving him with Stark was not a finishing move, he simply would not do it.

Loki needed to convince Stark to abandon such thoughts and indulge his true desires. He had no need to hold back - anything he wanted to do to Loki would only be pleasing to the Grandmaster.

He clasped his hands again, keeping his head low. “Stark, please, do whatever you wish. I will beg if it pleases you. Use me as you like. That is what he wants and it is what _you_ want, is it not? It is why you have brought me here, to your private rooms. I will perform for you. There is nothing - ” Loki paused and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes “- there is nothing I will not do, if you will consider...if you will _please_ consider keeping me.”

“Right, OK. I guess that's what we're doing then.” Stark spoke with a heavy sigh, and Loki could not interpret it as anything but displeasure with his words. He had misspoken, been too demanding. He had been arrogant to presume he knew what Stark wanted him for.

Loki did not know how to fix his mistake without risking making it worse, and so he waited in cowed silence, his head bowed, his hands clasped in his lap.

Stark walked away from him without a word, vanishing though a door on the other side of the room. Loki twisted his hands in his lap, listening to the brief sounds of a drawer opening, then running water, before Stark returned. He did not explain himself and Loki did not ask. It was not his concern.

Loki's breath caught in his chest when Stark got down on one knee in front of him. He gently lifted Loki's head, running his thumbs over his tattooed cheeks and looking into his eyes. Loki saw himself reflected in Stark’s deep brown gaze, his own eyes still an unnatural milky-white.

“Could you try to look a little less like you’re terrified of me?”

Stark gave him a wry smile, as though he knew that was not an easy request to grant. Loki’s face was a mask, his expression frozen in place, no matter how much he tried to rearrange it to something more pleasing. Because of course he _was_ terrified - not that Stark would hurt him or abuse him, but that he would _abandon_ him. He was afraid that whatever slender thread of mercy or desire for revenge had prompted Stark to make his offer would snap, and he would leave Loki to his fate, just as Thor had done.

“I apologize, for my disrespect. ” Loki's voice was strained. He tried to lower his head but Stark kept his fingers under his chin, making him look up. “Stark, I am sorry. Please, punish me if you wish, I know I deserve it.”

Stark took that in stride. “Seems like you’ve already been punished plenty,” he murmured. He turned Loki’s head to the side to examine the gold rings in his ears, then tapped his lips for him to open his mouth for inspection. Loki did, closing his eyes as Stark’s calloused fingers stroked his tongue and rested on the heavy piercing there.

“What’s this?” Stark asked, his voice low, almost speaking to himself.

Loki shrugged awkwardly, his open mouth preventing him from speaking. Evidently, he was not supposed to answer, as Stark did not punish him for failing to do so. Instead, he tipped Loki’s head further back and looked at his teeth.

“Yeah, OK, I thought I saw something odd. What are these?” This time he removed his fingers and let Loki answer.

“I do not know what they are,” Loki said, honestly. “My teeth were removed on Sakaar. I was left for...use...but then, Thanos….” Loki tried to focus, to answer Stark’s question without rambling, but it was almost impossible for him to recount what he had endured without his thoughts scattering away from him. “Since Sakaar, no one has... I am sure the implants can be activated by the control device, if you wish." Loki helplessly indicated the device that still hung around Stark's neck. It would easier for Stark to use the device and answer his own questions, than to try and make sense of Loki's incoherent explanation.

Stark didn't reach for the device though, he just moved on, running his thumbs lightly over Loki's eyelids.

“And your eyes?”

Loki looked up, submitting his white eyes to Stark's scrutiny, his gaze oddly intimate. “He made me drink something and when I woke up... If you wish to take my sight, or my hearing... I do not mind! If it would please you, you would be the only person I could see, your voice the only one I could hear.”

Stark swallowed. “Maybe another time.”

Loki looked down at Stark’s feet. “I am at your mercy,” he said, stating what Stark clearly already knew.

Loki held his position as his buyer examined him further. It was his right, and Loki remained still as Stark skimmed his fingers down his chest and lingered on the fading bruises on his stomach, the marks made by Loki's own fists.

“Who did this? You or him?”

Loki looked away, his eyes once again brimming with tears. “Me,” he said, and he did not need to say any more because Stark knew why. He hummed and let Loki go, leaning back and folding his arms.

“We'll talk about that later. Alright, listen up reindeer games. I’ll do my best to persuade En Dwi Gast to let you stay with me, but I have some conditions.”

Loki heart jumped and he nodded. It did not matter what Stark’s conditions were - he would agree to them because the alternative was worse.

“First, don't tell Thor anything that’s going to piss him off. I don’t feel like having my head pulled off by your big brother.”

Stark paused and Loki nodded eagerly. He would not tell his brother anything that passed between Stark and himself. That was easy. He did not mention that Thor would not care what Stark did to him anyway, as long as he did not do it in his presence. Loki would hide his bruises and keep his mouth shut.

“Second. Whether or not En Dwi Gast can fix this -" he waved his hands, gesturing broadly at everything around him "- Earth is going to be a total shit-show for a while. If you stay, you’re going to dedicate every waking moment you're not working for me to making things better here. Got it?"

"Yes, I understand. I would be glad to atone for my crimes against your people."

Stark gave him a thoughtful look, and Loki's shame filled him. He had treated Midgard as nothing but a convenient distraction, and now his fate rested on this one Midgardian man. He did not deserve mercy, and he knew he would have to work for forgiveness.

Stark did not press the point, and Loki was grateful for it. There would be plenty of time for Loki to show his humility to Stark's people. No doubt at least some of his punishments would be performed in public.

"Oh, do you still have your mojo? That would be useful."

Loki shook his head. "The Grandmaster took my seidr from me,” he said, managing to keep his voice calm as he discussed the greatest of the mutilations he had suffered. “Perhaps he will restore it, if he will sell me. But if he does I will only ever use my powers in your service or at your orders, Stark I swear! I accept your terms, and I will obey your every command.”

Stark held Loki’s face in his hands and looked into his eyes. Loki did not know what he saw there, what combination of fear and sincerity that made him believe that Loki’s vow was genuine, but it seemed he was satisfied.

“OK. Well I’m gonna need a few more minutes here so why don’t you go take a shower?”

Stark pointed to the same doorway he had gone through earlier, and Loki heard water running, activated by Stark’s technology. He went as he was told, hardly feeling his feet on the soft carpet. Loki's thoughts were scattering away from him. The Grandmaster’s absence was no less intense than his presence. Loki could not help but look over his shoulder for when he would return. The space he had left, the terrifying, domineering, manipulative space was empty now, but surely not for long.

The shower was warm but Loki did not linger. He cleaned himself with the fragrant soap he found in the large enclosure, and did his best to comb his hair out with his fingers. He should look attractive, but he had no idea what Stark found appealing. Did he want Loki the way he was, or would he modify his body further? Loki glanced at the wall-sized mirror as he dried himself off. He had once been proud of his lean, dark looks, but now all he felt was shame, and surprise that the marks of use were not more clearly written on his body. The piercings and tattoos were obvious, but he also expected the Grandmaster’s hand prints to be dark outlines on his hips, and the ligature marks of the vines to be branded on his skin like snake-venom. He could not escape the evidence of the crogall, though. His belly was fat with their eggs, the bulge of them clear through the stretched skin. They burned inside him like embers, and Loki could not stop the sob of despair that clawed its way up his throat at the sight.

Shaking, he leaned on the counter, trying to slow his breathing, to calm down and be ready to serve. Stark would not want him in tears. He would not buy him if he thought him unwilling. Loki picked up a small towel to wipe his face, but it brushed against a small bottle left open on the counter. To his horror, the bottle tipped over, spilling small blue pills all over the white marble.

Immediately frantic, Loki scooped up the tiny diamond shapes and shoved them back in the bottle. He looked all over the counter and floor in case he had missed any, then realized he could not take any chances and got down on his hands and knees, turning up the mats and crawling to every corner. Stark would be furious if Loki lost any of his pills, and Loki could not make a single mistake. He was barely holding himself together when he was sure he had found them all. He carefully replaced the bottle exactly where it had been and stepped away from the counter, hands raised, afraid to touch anything else.

Stark called him from the bedroom, "All good in there, reindeer games?"

Loki took a deep breath. He knew what was coming, and he was ready for it.

"Yes, Master."

It was time for him to prove himself. It was time for him to serve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are not familiar, these are [Tony's pills](https://www.drugs.com/imprints/pfizer-vgr-100-1184.html)


	24. Taken

When he walked back into the bedroom, Stark was sitting on the bed, staring into the distance as though calculating something in his head. A few beats passed and Loki squirmed. Should he call attention to himself? Should he simply stand and wait for Stark to notice him? His nerves were crawling all over him, and he did not know if he was capable of such patience, when his life hung in the balance, resting on Stark’s whim.

Luckily, a moment later Stark looked up and beckoned him over. “Alright, you know what’s next, right? Get on the bed and get comfortable.”

Loki approached the large bed. On the nightstand next to the slept-in side there was a smiling portrait of a red-headed woman, and Loki’s blood froze in his veins.

Stark had a wife! That meant Loki had to be even more careful than he had known. He would have two people to please, two people’s preferences to learn, and two people to fear. Stark’s wife may even refuse to allow Loki to stay, if she had that level of influence, and there would be nothing Loki could do about it. If she ordered him sold again, Stark had little reason to refuse her. Loki was nothing to him, except a means to an end.

He tore his eyes away from the picture. The only thing he could do was to obey Stark’s orders and prove that he was worth keeping. And right now, Stark’s order was for Loki to make himself ready, and so that is what he did.

He climbed up on the bed, momentarily lost as to how to display himself, but he quickly realized his choices were limited. Stark would not want to see his distended stomach, so he could not lie on his back. Laying on his front would be difficult for the same reason, so the only real option was to get on his hands and knees and present himself that way.

Stark’s eyes burned into him as Loki arranged himself, spreading his knees and arching his back, doing his best to show a tempting and enticing picture. The portrait of Stark's wife seemed to watch him too, her radiant smile and sparkling eyes a severe contrast to Loki's beaten down state. When he was ready, the bed dipped as Stark climbed up behind him.

Loki had somehow managed to forget about the piercing behind his balls, but Stark noticed it and tapped it with his finger.

“He got you prettied up all over, huh?”

Loki had no reply to that. He was having trouble simply breathing and maintaining his position - he had no focus left to be able to respond to such questions. The Grandmaster had left the decoration of his body to the baying crowds of Sakaar, and this is what they had done to him. If Stark did not like it, he had every right to change it once Loki was his.

Loki’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth. He could not speak. He knew what was coming. Yet again, his body would be put to use. He told himself that he welcomed it, that it was necessary for Stark to try him out, to help him decide if Loki was worth keeping. Loki did not know how to be pleasing to him, and Stark did not speak to give him further instructions. Loki could do nothing but kneel and present himself.

Cold gel against his tender flesh jerked him back from his semi-floating state, horrified realization slamming to the front of his mind. “Stark,” Loki said, his voice thick with unnamed emotion, “Stark, when you...you should know. The eggs. You will feel them.”

“Holy shit.” Stark did not pause in his preparations and after a moment Loki did his best to relax into it. Stark was preparing him. He was, perhaps, not intending to hurt him.

Stark seemed determined, focused on his purpose. He held Loki’s hips in firm hands as he guided himself inside. Loki’s body opened easily for his cock, just as it had done for the Grandmaster, for the crogall, for Lenesshar, and for every one of hundreds of anonymous denizens of the Grandmaster’s court who had taken him before this.

“If you’re going to cry, I’m going to stop.”

Stark lightly dug his fingernails into Loki’s back, and the jolt of pain pulled him back to the present.

“Just breathe.”

Stark started to work his hips, and Loki bit the inside of his lip, tasting blood. What was wrong with him? Stark did not want him sobbing into his fine bed-sheets while he took his pleasure. Loki forced himself to raise his head, to rock his body in time with Stark’s thrusts, to push back against him and show his willingness. Was that what Stark wanted from him? For him to enjoy this? Or did he want Loki to take it like a punishment? Or did he not care at all about the body he was using, and just want to enjoy him and be done with it?

It was dangerous for Loki to behave incorrectly now, but it was just as dangerous for him to freeze and float away. He had to be perfect for Stark to want to keep him. Stark deserved nothing less than Loki’s complete and total devotion and adoration, if he would save him from the Grandmaster.

Stark was fast and efficient. He fucked Loki as though he were fulfilling a mildly unpleasant duty, and the only sound he made was a soft groan when he spilled.

Having no other orders, Loki stayed where he was on his hands and knees as Stark pulled out and got off the bed. His arms were trembling and he could not lock his elbows to support himself. His body was weak, his muscles and tendons failing as though he were melting into the bed.

For some reason, taking Stark’s cock here on Midgard was so much more intense than what Loki had suffered before. He was in the nine-realms, on the same world as his brother. He was even in the same building Thor frequented, but still Loki was bending over to be used by a mortal with no strength, no powers, nothing! This treatment was never, ever going to end. This is what he was now. The Grandmaster had turned him into a whore and a pathetic, trembling weakling. Loki had fallen so far that he was desperate for a mortal’s protection!

Loki could not stop his tears then, and when Stark approached him and put a cautious hand on his shoulder, Loki’s vision blurred and spun with stars.

Stark sat on the edge of the bed and patted Loki awkwardly on his bare shoulder. “Um. I know this isn't easy, Reindeer Games, but you need to keep it together at least until the clock strikes midnight and you turn into a pumpkin, you know?”

Loki nodded and sniffed back his tears, although Stark’s words made little sense. “Yes,” he said through his tears, still unable to move, not yet released from his pose. “Yes, I understand. I am trying, please believe me. I just...there have been…”

His words failed him and his throat closed, unable to force himself to speak. Stark’s warm hand grounded him. It was a lifeline that linked him to Midgard and the nine-realms, and Loki desperately did not want to lose that connection.

“Yeah, it’s been a rough ride for you. And tonight is going to be pretty rough too, you know that, right? We have a bit of time though, you want to take a nap? Why don’t you lie down?”

At Stark’s gentle insistence, Loki rearranged himself and found himself lying in Stark’s bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin. Stark’s hand brushed his unruly hair back from his face.

“Better? Get some rest.”

Loki nodded, but then a squirming sensation in his belly forced him to ask his buyer for a boon. “Please, Stark, may I have some milk?”

Stark turned back from the doorway, surprised at his request. “Milk?”

Loki pushed himself up in the bed, hindered by his weighty belly. “The eggs. If I do not feed them, they will...hurt me.” He did not tell the full truth, that the eggs would eat _him_ instead, if they did not get adequate sustenance elsewhere. He was not sure why he held that back. Perhaps the humiliating reality of his predicament was too much to tell all in one session.

Stark frowned, but he hid the revulsion he must be feeling and answered Loki thoughtfully. “You know, we only have that weird almond milk. You can have that, or I can make you a protein shake. That might be better if...um...you need to feed them?”

Loki could not recall the last time he had been offered a choice of what to eat. He had survived on nutrient paste while he was in the Grandmaster’s box, and after that he had eaten whatever he was given by whoever had control of him at the time.

“Whatever you think best. I do not wish to be any trouble.”

Stark nodded and vanished. Loki chewed his lip anxiously, all the ways he had acted inappropriately running through his mind. He should not have asked his future owner to run errands for him. He should have got up and got the food himself. The absolute most Stark should have had to do was show him where things were kept. Loki twisted the sheets in his anxious hands, eyes on the door, waiting for Stark to return. If he was _going_ to return. Perhaps he had decided to deny Loki’s request and let him suffer instead.

It must have been a few minutes, but to Loki it felt like an eternity passed before Stark returned. He set a bottle on the nightstand, next to the woman’s portrait.

“OK, try that. It’s strawberry protein shake. Tastes kinda nasty but..um...hopefully it will keep those little critters fed.”

“Thank you, Stark. You are very kind.” Loki reached for the bottle in a daze. His exhaustion was falling on him like heavy snow, and the sudden change from being taken on all fours to having food brought to him in bed was too much for him to register.

Stark paused, almost at the door. “It’s probably not a good idea to call me ‘Stark’ while he’s here.”

Loki flushed, ashamed of himself for his lapse. “Of course. I apologize. How may I address you?”

Stark shuffled his feet in the doorway. Loki did not know how to act. Stark had put him in his bed so Loki assumed he was supposed to be there, but Stark seemed uncomfortable, so perhaps Loki was supposed to get up and kneel when he spoke to him? He was about to do just that when Stark gave his reply.

“Let’s go with ‘Sir’ for now, shall we?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. You are very kind.”

Stark's face was thoughtful, and he did not yet turn to leave. “Thor says you've always been the same, but I believe that people can change."

Loki stared at him, the light from the hallway surrounding him like a golden sunburst. Of course Thor had said that. He had never seen it, but Loki had been changing his entire life. The very day he was born he had been forced to change to survive in Odin's hands.

Words spilled from Loki's mouth, unbidden. "I have changed many times, Sir. If you wish me to change again, I will do it. I will be whatever you want me to be."

Stark regarded him, and finally nodded, accepting that statement as his due.

"Get some rest, Loki.”

The door shut behind him and Loki drank his drink and then obediently lay down in the bed, a warm glow surrounding him. Stark was kind, it was true, but he was not kind the way Lennesshar had been, as though to a pet. He was kind to Loki as though he were a _person._

Loki closed his eyes. He would need rest, if he were going to perform well that night. If he performed well, perhaps this could be his life - to serve in Stark's bed, to stay with him and work to atone to the people of Midgard for his crimes.

That would be a good life, for someone like him.


	25. Dressed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while to get right - I wasn't sure what Tony would do for dinner until I realized he would GO BIG because he's Tony stark lol.

The sun had set when Stark came to wake him, and Loki’s pulse immediately shot up. It was time, and Loki had no idea what his duties would be for the evening’s entertainment. Well, he thought to himself, that was not completely true. Loki assumed that he would _be_ the evening’s entertainment, but that still left a lot of unpleasant options.

Stark had another bottle of the same drink in his hand and a bundle of clothing under his arm. Loki scrambled out of the bed and stood before Stark, ready for whatever his orders may be. Stark handed him the bottle and put the clothing down on the bed.

“OK, it's nearly showtime. Put this on and come on out, I’ll show you around and talk you through it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Loki was relieved that he had at least remembered the correct respectful form of address before Stark was gone again. He drank the nourishing liquid first, then cautiously examined the pile of clothes.

It could have been worse.

It really, really could have been worse. Loki held up the trousers Stark had given him. They were leather, which was fine, but they were deep red, the color of Stark’s armor, which was...less fine. There were straps and gold buckles above the knees and around the ankles, which was only to be expected. The buckles matched the gold of the cuffs that Loki still wore around his wrists and ankles. he was so used to them now that they didn't register. At least they were theoretically removable, unlike most of the rest of the modifications Loki had endured.

Loki pulled the trousers on. The toothed metal fastening at the crotch confused him until he realized that the metal zipper ran all the way from the front to the back. So if it was undone all the way, the trousers would fall into two pieces. Loki could only imagine how useful _that_ feature would be, but he had no choice but to put them on, and so he did.

The shirt Stark had provided could barely be called a shirt. It was a fine black mesh that fit tight to his body, stretching over his belly. The gold rings in his nipples were visible through it, and Loki did his best not to look in any mirrors as he pulled it over his head.

The final item looked like a collection of belts and buckles. Loki swallowed down his nerves as he turned it around in his hands, trying to understand how to put it on. It was some kind of harness - red leather with gold buckles to match the trousers - but he could not get it the right way around or work out how he was supposed to wear it. He was still struggling with it when Stark popped his head through the doorway and asked him if he needed help.

The reminder that he was taking too long made Loki's hands shake too much to have any chance to finish dressing himself, and so Loki nodded and handed the leather straps to Stark. Stark quickly turned it the right way around and wrapped it around Loki's chest and shoulders and buckled it behind his back. Stark left his hand on Loki’s arm when he was done, a warm weight that Loki was pathetically grateful for.

“Too tight?”

Loki shook his head. “No, it is fine. Thank you Sir.” The harness _was_ tight, but Loki didn’t object. He found the pressure of it comforting. It was a reminder of Stark, wrapped around his body.

“OK, great. I don’t have any shoes that'll fit you, it was hard enough to get the pants made in your size for tonight. But this is good. You look good.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

They stood in silence, the weight of the upcoming night pressing down on them both. Loki could only imagine how worried Stark must be. He was about to try to convince the Grandmaster to reverse the disaster that Thanos had wrought, and save four billion Midgardian lives. Loki himself was selfishly focused on his own fate - if he would be sold to Stark, or not. Loki was desperate to ask what would be done to him that night, but he kept his mouth shut. Knowing was unlikely to make it better, and Stark had enough on his mind without Loki adding to his stress. He had already told Loki that he would do his best to purchase him, and that was all that Loki could hope for. It was more than he deserved, and if Loki did not show himself obedient and humble, Stark could very well change his mind.

Loki had to be as useful and inoffensive as he could. He bowed, one hand pressed to his heart. “I am ready, Sir. Will you show me my duties for this evening?”

Stark gave him a strange sideways look, but he beckoned him to follow and led him to the elevator. Loki kept his eyes on the floor, avoiding the large mirror at the back of the elevator. He was a little surprised that they were leaving Stark’s apartment, but then he realized that _of course_ Stark would not host the Grandmaster in his own home. It would be like inviting a viper into your nest, to do such a thing.

 _He brought_ you _to his own home. He brought you to his own_ bed _._

Loki ignored that thought. It did not mean anything. Stark would not want to waste a guest room or even a prison cell on Loki. If he was allowed to stay, Loki was fully expecting to sleep on the floor at Stark’s feet and he would be grateful to do it. It would be convenient. He would be ready to do Stark’s bidding at a moment’s notice, day or night.

The elevator opened onto a huge space that reminded Loki of the Grandmaster’s festival halls. The high ceiling glittered with lights that reflected off the marble floor and the gleaming gold decorations. Loki looked around, stunned. There were gaming tables, bars that served all manners of drinks, comfortable areas to sit, dance floors, as well as stages and platforms for performances. Everywhere Loki looked, servants were working - setting tables, arranging huge bundles of flowers, even putting the finishing touches on an elaborate ice-sculpture.

Loki could not believe all this had been done while he had been sleeping, and he dared to voice his amazement to Stark.

Stark looked sheepish. “Well, most of this stuff was already here,” he explained. “I’ve been known to throw the occasional party, especially in my younger days.”

Before they would discuss it further, Romanov strode up to them, two assistants trailing her. They all held electronic screens and wore earpieces that the two assistants were speaking into, tapping on their screens and making arrangements.

Romanov looked Loki up and down, then turned to Stark. “Tony. We’re good on food, and the private dining area is ready.” She pointed upwards, and Loki followed her gesture to see an open mezzanine above them. A team of white-clad servants was putting the finishing touches to an elaborate dining service. Romanov continued, hardly pausing for breath. “The casino will be ready in about half an hour, we’re bringing dealers and croupiers from all over the city. Everyone is mad at you for illegal gambling and you’re going to get a call from the mayor tomorrow - have your checkbook ready.” Stark nodded, and she continued. “Live music is on the way, instrumental at first but the cast of _Moulin Rouge_ is coming after curtains at the Hirshfield. I also have an aerial ballet troupe lined up, they’ll be here in about an hour.”

As though on cue, cascades of silk cloth fell from the high ceiling, long red and gold bolts that draped down to the floor. Loki could only imagine what an aerial ballet was, but he was sure it would be spectacular.

Stark looked up to the top of the silk ropes, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “That’s a long drop onto a marble floor. Friday, get a couple of legionnaires on standby down here to catch anyone that falls.”

The reply came out of the air instantly. “Ms Romanov has already made that request, boss, the legionnaires are on the way."

Romanov raised her eyebrow and Stark grinned at her. “Of course you did. You’re the best Nat, this all looks amazing. What about guests?”

“I put the call out to your usual guests and to as many modelling agencies and classy escort services as we could get to. I told them to go for a Met Gala kind of feel. Also we hit up some upmarket strip clubs, because I feel like it’s going to be that kind of night.”

“Yeah,” Stark said with a sigh. “I think so too.”

There was a stir in the room as two of Stark's legionnaires, suits of armor just like his own, but without a pilot, arrived from some hidden niche in the ceiling. They cruised down to floor level and took up positions under the silks. Their movements were smooth, but some instinct Loki could tell they were lifeless.

Still, they caused a distraction and Loki was glad of it. He was attracting the attention of Stark's servants, and curious glances from all over the room pressed against his skin. He was sure they knew who he was, and from the way he was dressed, they would know what he was for. Loki tried to inch behind Stark’s shoulder without actually moving his bare feet. He wanted to hide. He wanted to cower behind Stark’s back and not be present for the evening that was coming.

He had, for some reason, expected a quiet dinner in Stark’s penthouse. He knew now that that idea was pure foolishness, and Stark was no fool. He would have spoken to Thor, he would know who the Grandmaster was and what his parties were like. Stark was providing the kind of entertainment that would amuse his powerful guest, and Loki should have anticipated that. Loki knew that despite Stark's kindness, he should not have taken up the offer of rest. He should not have been sleeping these past hours, he should have been helping Stark with this task. He had useful information about the Grandmaster's festival halls and the entertainments that went on there.

At that thought, his blood froze. He also knew what _else_ went on at the festival halls. He had been installed in the Grandmaster's pleasure rooms for party-goers to use for months. Would that be his role tonight?

 _It’s just one night_ , he told himself, the bustling room fading into the darkness of his memories. _It’s just one night. If Stark wants you to entertain his guests for one night, you can do that. You have done it before._

When Loki blinked and looked back at Stark, they were alone. Romanov and her two assistants were on the other side of the room, talking to a group of men and women, directing them among the gaming tables.

Stark was watching Loki, as though he had been doing it for at least a few minutes, waiting for him to come back to himself.

“OK? You with me?”

Loki bowed, ashamed of himself. He had floated off again. He had let his mind drift and left his body behind, afraid of the thought of doing his duty for Stark and his guests. “I apologize, Sir. I am sorry. If you will show me where I will be working, I will be glad to prepare myself. I am sure you have many other matters to attend to. I will not be any trouble.”

“Come on.”

Stark led Loki to the broad staircase that led up the mezzanine level. Loki’s stomach dropped as he realized that, of course, he would not be one of the group of entertainers in Stark’s pleasure rooms. He would be put on display. He would be used in public, so that everyone knew what he was now.

The mezzanine level was larger than it had looked from below. There was a dining area with an elaborately set table - bright white cloths and crystal bowls and glasses shining like diamonds. Behind that was a fully stocked bar and a walled-off food preparation area. The chefs that Romanov had hired were still working, preparing the food that would be served to the Grandmaster. To the side of that was a comfortable lounge, and Loki’s steps faltered as he saw Captain Rogers was there. He was sitting on a brown leather couch, files laid out on a low table before him. He had half a dozen screens set up, and he was readying himself to give his briefing of the events on Earth. Loki caught a glimpse of a screen showing a close up of one of Thanos’ children. Loki’s vision blurred and his breath sped up. The Ebony Maw had gotten to know him most intimately, during his time in the void.

Stark’s warm hand on his shoulder pulled him back. “Don’t pay attention to any of that. Just pay attention to me, and this will be over with. I don’t want anyone else up here while En Dwi Gast is here, so you’re going to be serving the food and making drinks for everyone. Can you do that?”

Loki nodded before he even understood what Stark was telling him. He would be serving at their table? That was all? Relief flooded his brain until he was almost dizzy with it, but Stark was not done.

“Good. If we’re lucky he won’t want to mingle, but we haven’t been very lucky lately, have we? Nat’s set up some good entertainment, hopefully we can keep him happy with that, but I won’t put innocent people in harm’s way. If he wants to play I want him to pick _you_ to play with.”

Loki gulped down air, his vision hazing out. He knew what kind of games the Grandmaster liked to play.

“He likes to watch,” he blurted out, the words seeming unstoppable, building in his chest and forcing their way out of his mouth. “That’s what he did to me. He gave me to his guests. He made me perform for them. He let his gladiators fight and gave me to the victor in the arena. He put me on display and let them all use me as they pleased.”

“Holy shit.” Stark’s face paled, and his expression lost a little of its determination.

“I do not mind,” Loki hurried to reassure him. “I do not mind! Please, Sir, believe me, I am happy to serve in such ways. The Grandmaster will be pleased and those who I have wronged will have a chance for their revenge.”

“No,” Stark said, his mouth a flat line. “No, we’re not doing that. If nothing else, that’s still putting other people in his way and I want to avoid that.” Stark thought for a moment and Loki waited in breathless silence. Of course Stark would not want any of his guests, his own people, to be called to serve the Grandmaster’s pleasure. That was a role Loki had been broken to and trained for. “Oh!” Stark’s eyes lit up. “OK, this will need a bit of creative programming, but I can do it. Friday, send a couple more legionnaires up here. Actually make it three.”

Loki shut his mouth. Stark had made his decision and he would not want Loki arguing with him. He did not know what Stark would do with his legionnaires, maybe they would keep the other guest away from the mezzanine level. He bowed and waited for his instructions. He would obey, no matter what Stark wanted him to do.

Loki spent the next half-hour under Friday’s tutelage, familiarizing himself with the bar and how to make the drinks that each of the Avengers preferred. He also reviewed the menu for the evening and how each course should be properly served. The chefs fell back to the closed-off kitchen, filled with mouth-watering smells that made Loki's belly growl, even though he had just been fed. The setup of the rooms complete, the other servants melted away, leaving the mezzanine empty but for Stark, Captain Rogers, and Loki himself.

The opposite was happening downstairs on the main floor. The room was filling up with guests, a varied and colorful crowd in a riotous array of costumes. Some wore long, trailing robes covered in glowing lights, while some wore outrageously skimpy threads of clothing coupled with elaborate hair-pieces. An elderly white-haired man strolled the room carrying a jewel-toned parrot on his shoulder, entertaining a small group of ladies who wore very little, as far as Loki could see. Servants circulated with drinks and trays of small bites of food. Music was playing and the gaming area was open. Already, groups were forming around the tables, cheering and laughing.

Stark had changed his own clothes at some point, and he now wore formal attire in deep plum over a white shirt and black silk tie. The tight lines of stress had not left his face, but apart from that, his appearance was flawless.

For the first time, Loki thought to himself that maybe Stark could actually pull this off.

As though summoned by that thought, Friday announced that a craft was arriving in front of the building.

“Jeez,” Stark said, “In front of the building, as in 'landing in the middle of Park Avenue'?”

Friday confirmed that was the case, and Stark rolled his eyes and hurried off to greet the guest of honor.

That left Loki alone with Captain Rogers. Loki did his best not to draw attention to himself. He had his own duties to attend to and Rogers needed to focus on his report. But the next time Loki glanced up, Rogers was standing before him, a concerned look on his face.

“Loki.”

“Captain Rogers, Sir,” Loki replied with a respectful bow, hoping he could hide the hammering of his heart at the Captain's proximity. “May I make you a drink?”

Rogers shook his head. “Loki, I heard what you said just now about that this guy’s done to you.”

Loki was about to apologize for disturbing him, but Rogers continued. “I’ve learned a lot since we last met. About Thanos, about how he treats people. What he does to them. How he makes them do what he wants.”

Loki had no reply to that. He had done what he had done on Midgard, and if the Grandmaster agreed to sell him, he knew he would be punished for it. It was the way of things. _How_ he had come to do it had not been relevant to Odin or Thor, and Loki could not see that it would be relevant to any of the Midgardians either.

Rogers waited, but when Loki did not speak he continued. “I know we have to put on a show for tonight, but if you do stay, Loki, I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly.”

Loki looked down at the shining glass bar, reflecting his altered face back at him. “Thank you, Sir,” he said, his voice a low whisper. Loki did not know how much influence Roger would have over Stark, if Loki’s wish did come true and Stark was able to buy him. But perhaps he would intervene, if Loki’s punishments were something he considered unfair. Loki did not know how that standard would be judged on Midgard. Fair punishment for his crimes, if they had been committed on Asgard, would include anything and everything up to and including public execution.

A murmur spread through the crowd below, and Rogers went to the edge of the mezzanine to look over. Someone was making an entrance, and Loki could guess who it was. The murmur grew to a roar of cheers and applause, and Loki dared to peek over the railing to watch. Stark was making his way back through the crowd. All hints of tiredness and stress had vanished from his face as though they had never been, replaced with a wide smile and easy, expansive gestures. Stark waved to the crowds as they parted for him and the gold-robed figure that walked beside him, acknowledging the cheers with gracious nods and waves of his hand.

It was, of course, En Dwi Gast, the Grandmaster of Saakar, Loki's current owner.

Loki swallowed and scurried back to his station behind the bar, his trembling hands clutched behind his back. He took a deep breath, allowing the leather harness to tighten around his chest, a reminder of Stark's hold on him. It was the best he could do to calm himself down.

The evening had begun, and it was time for him to perform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that wrap-around zipper thing was big in the eighties - (mildly nsfw) [here's an example](https://www.depop.com/products/destinyschild-butt-zipper-jeans-jeans-that/)
> 
> I have no idea why it suddenly came to me as a great idea for Loki, but I am not one to let a terrible idea go to waste!


	26. Helped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew just made it with this one! Weekend is over already *sob*
> 
> But good news is that I finished the audio proofs for my third book, The Arcane Heart - if you might want free codes for the audible version of that book please sign up on my [mailing list](https://carolinegibsonbooks.com/) and you will get the notification when it's ready. 
> 
> And now - enjoy!

Loki hung back, his head down and his eyes lowered. He kept his hands neatly behind his back as Stark welcomed the Grandmaster to the night’s entertainment, walking him through the ballroom at a leisurely pace, letting him take in the sights and sounds. After they had circled the room, soaking in the adulation of the crowd, Stark steered them up the broad staircase. There was a brittle edge to the cheers and applause that floated up to Loki's ears. It was though the party were a mere shell, a facade, and the guests merely players, taking a role and performing it to the best of their ability. Loki considered the tragedy the world had endured, and thought that perhaps that  _ was  _ the case. Romanov had brought these guests in from agencies and clubs, they were not Stark’s friends in truth. No doubt the spider had briefed them on how to behave, to cheer and whoop and show the Grandmaster a good time.

Speaking of Romanov, she had appeared on the mezzanine level at some point during Stark's procession. Her assistants were gone and she had changed into a stiff gown of iridescent peacock silk, cut high at the front to skim her stockinged thighs, and so long at the back that it trailed on the ground. Loki made her preferred drink - vodka shaken with ice, served in a glass with a salted rim and a twist of lemon and cucumber rind. His hands hardly shook as he poured the drink and presented it to her on a silver tray. She took it without acknowledgement. As Stark and the Grandmaster ascended the stairs and came into view, she transformed her face just as Stark had done. All traces of worry smoothed away, replaced by wide-eyes and a girlish smile. It was uncanny, the way they both did it.

Captain Rogers did not have their same skill at dissembly, neither did he have their sense of style. Next to Stark’s purple suit and Romanov’s peacock gown, Roger’s dark brown military uniform was subdued, despite the array of medals he wore. Loki served him a gin and tonic, which he sipped with a grimace, his screen and a bundle of papers under his arm.

“Ah, there he is! There’s my sweetheart!” The Grandmaster spotted Loki at once, before his foot had even touched the last stair.

He glided towards Loki, bending reality before him like a ship powering through choppy seas. Loki felt a prickle of sweat run down his spine as that familiar, hated sensation wrapped around him once more. The Grandmaster's power was like an overly strong cologne, and Loki could not help but breath it in. Loki did not resist as the Grandmaster hooked one finger under the leather harness and yanked him forward over the bar. He kiss both his cheeks and held his face between two hands.

"Hello, beautiful."

Loki did his best to smile, clenching his hands on the bar to avoid the impulse to wipe those kisses away. The wood of the bar dug into his belly where the Grandmaster was holding him, and his feet were off the ground.

“Good Evening, Grandmaster.”

“Well, aren't you as pretty as a picture.” The Grandmaster let him go and looked him up and down, peering over the bar at the humiliating clothes Stark had dressed him in. As Loki had known he would, he read all Loki's secrets in just that one look. He turned to Stark, who stood at his elbow.

“Has he been good for you? I  _ know  _ he has. He can be a lot of fun...am I right?”

Stark returned his lascivious smile. “Oh he’s been  _ good _ , alright,” he said, with a meaningful leer. Rogers tried to hide his scowl, and the Grandmaster laughed, delighted.

“I am just so,  _ so  _ glad that your brother gave you to me, darling. Aren't you? Can you imagine if you had gone with Sparkles? How bored you would be?”

“Of course, you are right Grandmaster.” Loki bowed, not knowing what else to do, and then Stark saved him by telling him to make a drink for his guest.

Loki already had something in mind for the Grandmaster. Midgardian liquor had none of the intense chemical and etheric effects that the Grandmaster was used to, but Loki hoped he would enjoy the lurid blue cocktail he had created with coconut, lime and rum. For Stark, Loki made a classic Champagne cocktail - sparkling wine with brandy and a single cube of sugar that made it effervesce, sparking in the lights like a bubbling fountain inside the glass.

Drinks in hand, Stark steered the Grandmaster to a long couch in the lounge area. He sat him in the middle, Romanov on one side and Stark himself on the other. Both of them leaned in as though they found the Grandmaster too amusing and enticing to stay away from. Rogers was doing all he could to keep the sour expression off his face, and he was not doing very well at it. Loki picked up a tray of tiny bites that he had prepared earlier. He should offer Stark's guests something to nibble on while Rogers was making his presentation. Distracted by thoughts of his responsibilities, Loki was startled as he rounded the bar, the heavy tray in his hands, and came face to face with Topaz.

“You.” Topaz had never liked Loki, but her hatred of him only seemed to grow. To be sure, Loki had once made jokes at her expense, mocked her appearance and the dull, dogged manner she discharged her duties, but that hardly seemed to justify the way she had treated him since his fall. Topaz had been the one to lock Loki in the Grandmaster’s box for ten times the amount of punishment that the Grandmaster himself had ordered. Loki knew his past self would be angry with her, seeking vengeance and justice, but that version of him was gone, now. All he felt, as he stood before her, was fear and regret that he had ever crossed the powerful and spiteful woman.

He bowed, trying to balance the heavy tray. His arms were already aching and he wished he could put it down. Holding the tray as well as speaking to Topaz felt overwhelming. He could only cope with one simple task at a time without his mind skittering away from him. Topaz stood between him and the bar, though, so all he could do was stand there with the tray in his hands and try to please her.

“May I make you something to drink?”

“No.”

Loki tried to squeeze around her, but Topaz moved to block his path. He looked over to Stark, but he would get no help there. Stark was engrossed in conversation with the Grandmaster, and did not so much as glance in his direction. He tried asking directly.

“May I pass by?”

Loki used his most humble tone, but still the answer was a definite, “No.”

He searched his mind. Loki's thoughts were no longer bright and sharp as they once had been, but dull and slow. He could barely get his thoughts to move at all. The dozen clever things that once would have flown off his tongue were now reduced to just one.

“ _ Please. Please _ may I pass by?”

Topaz smirked at him and stood aside. Loki hurried to serve the group in the lounge, filled with relief. As he passed her, Topaz hooked the staff of the melt-stick into the the strap around Loki’s ankle and tripped him. Loki fell, landing on his face on the floor, the contents of the tray scattered in every direction. If that were not bad enough, the tray hit the ground with a loud and unmistakable clang.

Stark, Rogers, Romanov and the Grandmaster all stared at him. Loki wanted to cry. He was useless. All Stark had asked of him was to serve food and drinks, and he could not even do  _ that  _ properly. Now he would be punished and then he would be thrown away because he had failed at this simple task. He would be returned to the Grandmaster and the rest of his life would be nothing but misery, brutality, and dehumanizing treatment as the Grandmaster’s toy.

The Grandmaster made his ‘disappointed’ face and raised his hand as though he were about to speak. Before he could, Stark jumped to his feet, his face stormy. He strode over to Loki, trampling the soft morsels under his feet, and kicked him hard in the side with the pointed toes of his shining dress-shoes. “What is wrong with you?” His voice was a low, furious hiss.

Loki started to apologize for his clumsiness, but the breath was forced out of him when Stark knelt with one knee in his back, holding him where he was on the floor. Loki heard the clink of buckles and felt Stark’s hands on the straps around his ankles and above his knees. He was not sure what was happening, but of course, he did not resist.

“Hand,” Stark ordered when he was finished with Loki's legs. Loki, in his confusion, did not immediately respond, unsure what was required of him. Stark dug his knee into his spine, pressing him down, his stuffed belly forcing his lungs to deflate, stealing his breath.

“ _ Hand _ .”

Loki finally understood and pulled his right hand out from under him. Stark grabbed it and twisted Loki's arm up behind his back. There was another metallic clink and Stark stood up, glaring down at Loki where he lay on the hard floor.

“Clean this up. And watch where you’re going next time.”

Loki scrambled to his feet. Or at least, he tried to. He did not get past his knees before he tripped again. He tried to catch himself on his hands but found that he only had one free. Stark had pinned his wrist cuff to the harness at his back, and connected the straps on his leather trousers together. Loki was left with only one hand, and about twelve inches of stride.

That was a more than fair price to pay for his mistake.

Loki took a breath and rolled to his knees, his shoulder already aching from the arm wrenched behind him. Stark was gone, back to the lounge with a shake of his head, the incompetent slave already forgotten.

Loki tried to be silent as he cleared the mess he had made, but working with one hand was slow and cumbersome. He could not even wield a broom properly, and he had to get on his knees and awkwardly shuffle across the marble, finding each crumb by hand and cleaning it with a damp cloth. When he was done, the group was still deep in conversation. Captain Rogers was standing, showing a video on his screen while he talked through it. The Grandmaster leaned back on the couch, one thoughtful finger tapping on his lip. Loki’s gut lurched in fear as he recognized the figure on the screen. Rogers paused the video at that moment, and Loki bit back a whimper as Thanos’ face filled the screen, staring out of it as though he were just in the next room.

As though he could sense Loki's attention, the Grandmaster turned to him and held out his glass.

“Fetch me another of these, would you, Sweetheart? Chop chop.”

Loki staggered to his feet, the straps around his knees and ankles making his every step dangerous and slow. He took the Grandmaster’s glass in careful hands and shuffled his way back to the bar, past Topaz who still stood there, malevolent triumph in her eyes.

Loki made the drink, his one hand clumsy in his rising panic. If he ruined the Grandmaster’s drink, nothing would save him. He had to do this right. He  _ had  _ to. He glanced up as he squeezed the lime, feeling the burning of Topaz’ gaze on him. He looked down, breath coming short, his heart pumping painfully in his chest. What could he do?  _ What could he do? _ The Grandmaster was waiting for his drink and Stark’s hospitality would be shamed if Loki could not deliver it. He looked over at the group, desperate for help, but Stark was not facing him, instead talking to Rogers and the Grandmaster, discussing some detail on the screens. At that moment, Romanov met his gaze, and with a quick flick of her eyes glanced up at the ceiling.

Loki took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

He had no allies in this place, but perhaps there was one who would aid him. One who did not look down on him as beneath their notice. The one who had patiently showed him how to make these drinks in the first place. It was audacious of a slave to speak without being spoken to first, never mind to ask such a question, but Loki had no other options.

“Friday.” He spoke almost under his breath, looking down at the reflective surface of the bar. “Friday, please help me.”

There was no reply, and Loki almost wept. He was completely alone. He was going to fail at this task and he would lose his only chance to escape the Grandmaster’s clutches. He picked up the drink, radiating misery. He could not stall any longer.

“I’ll take that for you, Loki”

Loki looked up, wide eyed at the metal hand that reached out to him across the bar. At first, for one incredulous moment, he thought that it was Stark himself, wearing his armor and come to save him, but of course that was ridiculous.

It was not Stark, it was Friday - she had activated one of the legionnaires.

Loki almost sobbed in relief as he gave the drink to the metal hand of the legionnaire. He watched as it smoothly and elegantly delivered the blue beverage to the Grandmaster.

Loki could hear his admiring coo from where he stood. Stark’s machines were impressive, striking in gold and white livery. The way they moved was so natural, there was nothing mechanical about them. No wonder the Grandmaster was interested. Stark seemed pleased to take the opportunity to show the legionnaire off a little, and Rogers impatiently waited by the screen to continue his presentation.

Stark glanced up at Loki, and if Loki did not imagined it, he gave him a slight nod. It was enough to make Loki look at the ground again. He had work to be doing. He should not be standing around watching his betters. He picked up a cloth and cleaned and polished the entire bar, one-handed and taking small, precise steps. His right arm was numb from being bound up behind his back, but he ignored it. There was nothing else he could do about it, after all. All he could do was keep his head down and serve.

For the rest of Roger’s presentation, the legionnaire carried the drinks that Loki made. She even took a replacement tray of snacks to the group and served them with a precise elegance that Loki knew he could never match.

Friday and her legionnaires had come to Loki's aid. Perhaps this evening would not go so badly for him, after all.


	27. Suspended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Phew I am back! Just finished the audio proofs for my book - yay! It's so hard to listen to my own work being performed, it's amazing and horrifyingly embarrassing at the same time. But it's done now! woo hoo! Hope you enjoy the chapter, looking forward to having more time to write more!

Loki did his best not to listen to the conversation. He knew very well that such things did not concern him, but at the same time he was desperate for any hint that the discussion was going well. Loki’s fate and future hinged upon Stark's goodwill, but Loki knew that he was insignificant to the man. He was a mere afterthought. If Stark was not well pleased with the Grandmaster's decisions, he would not be inclined to extend any grace to his former enemy.

Loki held back from chewing on his nails. He had his orders and he did his best to deliver as instructed. He made drinks and prepared platters of food from the supplies in the kitchen behind him. Friday took everything over to the group with her legionnaires, and Loki fretted.

The aerial ballet had started by the time Captain Rogers had finished his presentation. Loki was captivated by the dancers climbing the silks, spinning and twirling as they went, the silk billowing out behind them. They seemed like spirits of air and water, lit from above and below. The room receded into darkness around them, leaving them floating like flowers in the ocean current. Loki had not known that Midgardians were capable of such beauty, and for a brief moment he forgot everything else as he gazed at the dancers.

Stark snapped his fingers in Loki's face, and he slammed back to reality so fast he almost fell backwards - back into his role, back to his body with his bound stride and his stuffed belly and his arm twisted up behind his back. Back into his fear and his panic and the churning in his gut as he tried to ignore it and do as he was told.

The group was moving to the dining area. Stark had already walked away, but Loki gave a deep bow to his departing back anyway, watched only by Topaz' scornful eyes. He shuffled out from behind the bar, ready to perform his next task - to serve the meal and attend on their table. He could not tell if the conversation had gone well, so he glanced over at Captain Rogers, who was least able to hide his emotions. Hope surged as soon as he looked at him. Rogers seemed grimly satisfied, and Loki reminded himself that the Grandmaster had come here himself. He had made the decision to seek out these Midgardians, he had wanted to set the balance back to rights. They had not come to him, begging for his favor. Surely that meant Stark would be pleased and he would not mind to trade for Loki as well.

Loki turned to the kitchen, already calculating how to best serve the food with only one hand and his legs hobbled. He did not get more than two steps before the Grandmaster stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. He waved an airy hand at the dancers, as light as butterflies on their red and gold silks.

“You know, this is just lovely, but I think we could use a little entertainment...heh... _up close_. What do you say, darling?”

Stark smiled a predatory smile and approached Loki’s other side, boxing him in and forcing him to step back against the bar. He stumbled and almost fell as the strap around his ankles tripped him. Stark slipped an arm around Loki’s waist and pulled him close, moving him further from the Grandmaster, a possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“I have a little something you might like, if I may.”

The Grandmaster nodded with an indulgent smile and Stark walked Loki to the edge of the mezzanine, where two legionnaires were waiting. He looked up at the distant ceiling.

“Go ahead, Friday.”

A cascade of silk fell behind them, red and gold cloth twined together, hanging from the floor to the ceiling. A few cheers came from the floor below, but most of the party-goers were watching the main show. Stark hooked two fingers in Loki's harness and steered him into the metal embrace of the legionnaire standing behind him.

"Be good."

With that warning, Stark turned his back and walked to his seat at the circular table. Loki swayed where he stood, the legionnaire easily holding him - the harness was a useful restraint to keep Loki where he was supposed to be. The change of plans was unsettling. Loki had thought he had known what was coming next, but now that had changed and he was having trouble understanding it. He could no longer adapt to such things - he could barely string the events of the day together, repeating his orders in his mind and mentally preparing himself for it. He shivered, the metals hands of the legionnaire cool though the open mesh of his shirt.

“Friday?”

Loki should have known his whisper would get no reply, but still his heart sank at the blank-faced silence. Friday was not his friend, he knew that, but she had helped him, and he had not been able to stop himself from latching on to her. _Pathetic_. Loki was a puppy following the first person to pat him on this head. Friday was an automaton just like her legionnaires - she would follow Stark's orders and her legionnaires would treat Loki as their creator desired.

The legionnaires were gentle as they wound the silk around Loki's body, wrapping it around his thighs and hips, making a cradle around his pelvis. Loki only understood what they were doing when the silk rose into the air, pulled by a hidden winch, and he went with it. He was slowly inverted until he was upside down, swaying in the air-currents in the large room. The first legionnaire still held the harness, anchoring him to the ground as its partner released his arm from behind his back, binding it in silk along with the other, straight and taught behind his back. Loki's body bent like a bow as his wrists were tied to his ankles and pulled tight. His hair fell around his face, hiding his observers from his breathless gaze. When he was secured, hogtied and inverted, wrapped in silk, the harness was released, the legionnaire opening its metal hands and letting him rise, floating up from its hold like a butterfly taking to the air.

Loki closed his eyes as he swung in the silk, the invisible winch pulling him higher. Friday would catch him if he fell, he knew it, but the sight of hard marble under his head made him nauseous. With his wrists tied to his ankles, Loki had no way to protect himself if the silk slipped. But he would _not_ fall. Friday had tied him and she was Stark's creation. Stark would not make such a mistake.

The silk spun, leisurely and slow, spinning Loki in place. The red and gold silk billowed out under him, wafting in the air like the petals of underwater plants. The ethereal music of the aerial ballet filled his ears, and Loki tried to focus on the music and the sway of the silk, not on what was coming next. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that if the Grandmaster wanted a show, Stark would give him one. Stark had already informed Loki that he would be the target of the Grandmaster's games, not any innocent mortals, and so here he was - bound and displayed for the pleasure of those who owned and controlled him.

Loki was left to hang there while the legionnaires went to serve the first course. All the blood ran to his head and the inverted position made him dizzy and disoriented. When he spun in the right direction he could see the table with the Grandmaster, Stark, Romanov and Rogers sitting in a half-circle, talking, smiling, drinking wine. When he turned a little more, he could see Topaz at the bar, glowering at the room in general. He caught the occasional glimpse of the aerial ballet still going on behind him. Their performance was light and airy compared to his own static, lumpen display. He knew he was inelegant. His belly bulged, throwing off the balance of the pose Friday had tried to achieve, and of course he was bound and unmoving, not graceful and flowing as they were.

The two legionnaires brought platters and drinks to the table. They even brought a plate for Topaz at the bar, although she did not eat from it. Loki thought that when they were done, they would turn their attention back to him, but he was wrong.

A third legionnaire, not one of the ones that had bound him, stepped out from the shadows. This one looked different. The light from its eyes was red, not gold, and it was taller and with broader shoulders than the other two. Loki bit his lip. The new red-eyed legionnaire stepped forward, its tread heavy on the marble floor. Behind it, two more lurked out of the shadows, red-eyed like the first.

Stark gestured at them and told his companions something that made them all look up at Loki, dangling on his silk like the bait on a hook.

A silent pause filled the space like heavy water. All eyes were on Loki, but Loki’s eyes were on Stark. He had the control device in his hand, and he held Loki's fate there too. This performance was necessary to please the Grandmaster, but Loki did not dare even nod his head. He had no right to agree to what Stark had planned for him, just he had no right to refuse. The decision was not his, it belonged to the mortal that he hoped would become his master.

A shadow of pain seemed to chase across Stark's face, a flicker that could have been regret, that only Loki saw. Before Loki could even blink, it was gone and the easy smile was back. With cold eyes, Stark nodded to the legionnaires, and as one, their eyes glowed and they moved forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW pic of Loki's pose [smiling naked woman in a suspended inverted hogtie](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cu2ka98UAAAeTve.jpg)


	28. Proved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags are updated - Loki has a bad time
> 
> (Credit to apyewackety for the tag "non-con AI/meatsack foursome")

“Stark, we’re _eating_.”

Captain Rogers was the only one to protest as the three new legionnaires closed in on Loki where he hung.

The Grandmaster laughed, an explosive giggle that sounded genuinely amused. “Oh my. We have a gentleman at the table. Well do excuse us...heh...Captain, as delightful as your company is, I believe it’s time for a little fun.” He looked over at Loki, his eyes roving over his stretched out body, lingering on his belly where the evidence of his past use was all too obvious.

“You don’t mind, do you darling?”

Loki forced the words out, breathless from his position, unable to fully fill his lungs with air. “Of course not...Grandmaster...I am...very happy…to be of service.”

“Wonderful! Well, there we go - he likes it. He can take a lot more than this, you know. You should loosen up a little, Captain!”

Roger gave a forced smile that looked more like a growl and knocked back the drink he was holding. Friday brought him another and he drank that one too, but he had nothing more to say in Loki’s defense.

The legionnaires used his mouth first, all three of them, one after the other.

Loki did not fight them. Resistance would only lead to punishment, as it always did. Without his magic and bound as he was, there was nothing he could do anyway, so he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. They passed him between them, pumping his throat with mechanical precision, choking him on their silicone cocks, tears spilling from his eyes and dripping onto the floor.

Mindful of Rogers' complaint, Loki tried to be quiet, to be silent and pleasing to those watching and not to disturb the meal. He wanted to drift as the machines took him, but his thoughts looped back to his audience. He needed to know if they were pleased, if he was performing well, if Stark was enjoying watching his machines use him. Perhaps, like the Grandmaster, Stark preferred to watch rather than to participate. Loki would not mind if he were required to perform in this way. He would not mind to be put on display, for his degradation to be shown to all of Midgard - just punishment for his crimes on this world. He would not mind any manner at all in which Stark wanted to use him, if he would only keep him. But if he was going to keep him, Loki needed to perform well and so he could not allow his thoughts to drift, he had to stay in the moment and react as he should.

The last one to have him was the leader, the glowing red lamps of its gaze looking down at Loki's white eyes as it hooked its metal hand in the straps of the harness around Loki's chest and swung him into position. Loki opened his mouth, unresistant, compliant, obedient, willing to do his duty, but the legionnaire was not satisfied. It took a handful of Loki's hair in its unyielding fingers, holding his head in position, not allowing him a fraction of an inch of leeway. In one long stroke, its silicone cock slid home, frictionless, Loki's mouth and throat filled. He was not required to participate, only to surrender, and he did it without hesitation. With short, hard thrusts the legionnaire pumped its cock, taking no pleasure in the act. The only pleasure was in Loki's debasement before the watchers, and he tasted blood as his lip split on the hard metal casing at the base of the dildo, ruby red drops joining his salt tears on the glossy marble floor.

Loki was given a break while the second course was served, left to hang in the silk bonds. The remaining momentum fell away from him until he was still, only the loose trails of silk fluttering in the air under him.

As soon as he could, Loki looked over to the table. The Grandmaster was leaning back in his seat, his finger tap-tap-tapping on his glass. Loki’s blood chilled. The Grandmaster was getting bored, and that did not bode well for anyone. Stark noticed it too, and he pressed his lips together and muttered under his breath, perhaps giving further instructions to Friday and her legionnaires. Loki knew he would not hold back. Stark had already told him that. He had been open about it during their first conversation in his tower, when he had convinced Thor to let him try to buy Loki from the Grandmaster. Loki knew more was coming, but there was little he could do to prepare himself for it.

The second course was served and the legionnaires returned, surrounding Loki in a loose circle. Loki licked his bloody lips and tried not to wonder what they were going to to do him. The leader held the control device in its metal hand, and Loki fixed his gaze on it, a single still point in his circling thoughts. Whoever had the control device could do whatever they liked with him. They controlled him just as surely Stark controlled Friday and these legionnaires. He was a toy to be played with, a thing to be used, and he could do nothing but accept it.

Loki spun dizzily in the silk as the legionnaires shredded his clothes in their mechanical hands. The trousers were ripped open, the front-to-back fastener simply torn away, exposing his genitals to his audience. The mesh shirt disintegrated, leaving him only the harness and the silk. His breath came faster, and he could not help his anguished sob when one of the legionnaires held up a hand sparking with electricity. It touched the gold ring in Loki's cock and when he opened his mouth to scream another robotic dildo was shoved in his mouth to muffle the sound.

He was shocked again, and then again and again. The gold ring burned in his most tender flesh, agony shooting through his cock and balls as he choked and sobbed around the fat cock in his mouth. His jaw seized, his teeth involuntarily clamping down on the silicone dildo. He was punished for that too - the red-eyed legionnaire turned its attention to the rings in his nipples, shocking them in turn, then back to his cock, the endless cycle of pain sending Loki out of his head, disoriented and screaming, incoherently begging for mercy which did not come. 

He could not spare a glance to the table now, to see if his torture was entertaining enough. All he could do was try to breathe.

The legionnaires tore the silk and dragged Loki down, spreading his legs with metal hands. Instinct kicked in then, and all Loki's efforts at control evaporated. The three metal creatures wrestled him down as he kicked and fought.

He lost.

The legionnaires were strong and they acted as one, while Loki was a wild beast, desperately struggling to escape a trap. They bent him over, held by the harness and the cradle of silk still tied around his hips. Two of them shoved their plastic cocks into him, synchronized, pumping his mouth and his unprepared ass, crushing him between them as he floundered and thrashed like a landed fish.

They shocked him, too.

The third legionnaire found the piercings in his flesh with electric hands. The other two sent shocks inside him, agonizing bolts that Loki was sure were going to stop his heart. Worse than any of that, the leader activated the obedience disk and let him shudder and convulse as they fucked him, a flailing frenzy of helpless flesh, wracked with bolts of muscle-spasming torture. His vision blurred and faded, the noise of the room merged with the pulse pounding in his ears, and Loki wondered if he were going to die. Was this his end? Fucked and tortured to death on Midgard for the amusement of the Grandmaster of Sakaar, his own miserable existence traded for four billion Midgardian lives?

As his consciousness flickered out, Loki told himself that it was for the best. The pain would end, and although the great doors of Valhalla were forever closed to him, perhaps he would be allowed to creep around the edges of the bright fields of Folkvangr, and be with his people in the afterlife.

***

Loki was not dead.

He realized that slowly, if such a thing were possible. He was not dead, but he had been suspended in the silk again, and the gentle rocking motion befuddled his mind for a time, even after he was able to open his eyes.

He was alive, and not much time had passed. His body throbbed all over. The aftershocks of the obedience disk skittered through his nerves like ice on a broken tooth. His ass was raw agony, and his throat felt like crushed glass.

Loki turned his head to the table where the Grandmaster, Stark and the others had sat. The table was empty now, except for one man.

Captain Rogers sat with his head in his hands, an empty glass and a full, unopened bottle in front of him. Loki let a soft whimper escape his lips and Rogers startled, knocked the glass off the table, shattering it on the cold floor like shards of diamond.

“Loki!”

Rogers jumped up from his seat and hurried over to the edge of the balcony where Loki was suspended. He was no longer trussed like a pig for slaughter. Instead, he was on his back, the silk crossed under his shoulders, around his waist, hips and thighs, forming a cradle where he lay, cocooned. His arms were bound to his sides, and even his head was supported. Despite the pain in his body, he did not mind the restraints, at least.

“Loki, are you...are you OK?”

Loki tipped his head back and stared at Rogers, his brow furrowed, trying to make sense of the question. Rogers rushed back to the table and returned a moment later with a bottle of water. He propped Loki’s head up on his shoulder and held the bottle to his lips, helping him sip from it. The water was warm, and painful on Loki's abused throat, but it started up some of his sluggish thoughts. It seemed Rogers wanted an answer, and Loki strove to give him one.

“I am well, Captain Rogers, Sir.”

Loki’s voice was a hoarse whisper, the taste of blood and plastic on his tongue. But of course, he was well. He was alive, against all reason, and although he was still restrained he seemed to have been left bound for secure storage rather than for punishment. So, all things considered, he was well.

He should have been alone, though. He always woke up alone after such sessions. Rogers' presence here was a danger, a risk, and an unknown quantity. Loki could not help but feel that he was not waiting here for his own turn with Loki. He wanted something else. Something unpredictable.

Rogers began to speak. “I’m sorry…”

“Do not be.” Loki had to end that sentiment at once. Any expression of regret as to Loki's treatment would be taken poorly by the Grandmaster. It would be taken as _criticism_ by the Grandmaster, and he would not hesitate to show his displeasure, using Loki as his canvas.

“But..”

“ _Please_ , Captain." Loki paused to cough, taking another grateful sip of water. Rogers' large hand was surprisingly gentle as he supported Loki's head to help him drink. "Please, I beg you - do not say such things. I am happy to be of service.”

A cheer went up from the main room, still hidden from Loki’s gaze by the curtain of silk. For the first time, he heard the sounds of battle floating up from below. Rogers caught his confused expression and explained what was happening.

“Thor’s fighting the legionnaires. Not here - he’s up at the training facility. Tony asked him to put on a show, and well, you know Thor.”

Loki managed a small smile. He did indeed know Thor. The glory of battle was a second skin to him, and if Stark had asked him to provide a display of his fighting abilities he would be only too glad to oblige. Both of them had been tasked to perform an entertaining display with Stark’s legionnaires, but the difference between them could not be greater. Loki could not bear to dwell on it.

"Thank you for the water, Captain Rogers, Sir."

Rogers huffed out a breath. "It's really the least I could do, Loki."

Loki had no reply to that, and so he closed his eyes again, floating in the silk, and waited for what would come next. 

He had not woken up alone for once, and he found that surprisingly comforting.


	29. Apology

It seemed Rogers was planning to spend the rest of the evening on the mezzanine. Loki resolved to be quiet and not distract from whatever Rogers was trying to accomplish. Perhaps he still had work to do on his presentation, to add some small details or make a further attempt at persuasion.

Loki lay in his silk prison and resolved to rest, as he could be called on to serve again at any time. He tried not to pay attention to the throbbing pain in his ass and the raw nerves of his throat. His discomfort did not matter, and it would not stop him providing whatever service the Grandmaster, Stark, or anyone else desired of him.

They remained in silence for a few minutes. Rogers did not leave the mezzanine, and he did not go back to his screens and papers either. Tension seeped under Loki’s skin. A nameless worry grew that Rogers wanted something from him, something he would have from him in secret and without witnesses. Whatever it was, Loki of course would comply. He knew his purpose and he would rather fulfill it than wait in fear for what he could not avoid. He licked his lips and screwed up his courage to speak.

“Captain, if there is anything you desire, please, I would be glad to - “ Loki paused and corrected himself “ - I would be glad if you would _allow_ me to serve you.”

“No!” Rogers backed off a few paces, his hands raised. “No, Loki. God, no. That’s not why I’m here.”

Loki’s heart sank and a tremble of fear rippled through him. He had misstepped. He had no right to offer himself just as he had no right to refuse. He knew that. Rogers would use him if he wanted to and Loki had no say in it. If he found Loki undesirable, as he obviously did, he could only be insulted by such an offer. Loki closed his eyes, expecting punishment to fall on his helpless head at any moment.

Rogers’ voice was closer, when he next spoke. He was standing next to Loki’s head, his voice low. “Loki. I’m not here for that. I’m here to...I don’t know, make sure you’re OK. To keep you company.”

He ran his hand through his close cropped hair, then did it again, looking from side to side

“I can’t get you down, I’m afraid. Tony left strict instructions. He seems to think the Grandmaster wouldn’t like it.”

“He would not,” Loki confirmed at once. It seemed that Stark and the Grandmaster were of one mind in that regard - they expected to find Loki exactly where they had left him.

“Well, alright. I guess I’ll be here if you need anything.” Rogers walked back to the table and sat with his bottle and his glass, his shoulders slumped.

Loki was consumed with the desire to apologize. Rogers had been forced to watch Loki’s performance, which he had not appreciated. Now he had been designated as Loki’s nursemaid for the evening, when so many fine entertainments were available just downstairs, out of his reach.

As though to emphasize the point, the crowd let out another great cheer. Glittering lights reflected on the silk curtain that separated the mezzanine from the main floor below. Rogers looked up at the noise and Loki seized his chance.

“Captain Rogers, Sir. Please may I speak?”

Rogers frowned and left his chair again, walking over to where Loki lay in his cocoon of silk. “Yes, of course Loki. You can speak whenever you want. You don’t need my permission for that.”

Loki nodded, surprised, but he carried on. “I would like to apologize, Sir. For…” he wracked his brain for what he was actually apologizing for, something more than the general cloud of guilt and shame that hung over him. Rogers seemed to realize his difficulty.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for Loki.”

Loki knew that was not true, but short of apologizing for his very existence, he could not put words to the emotion that boiled up inside him.

The cheers from below were a counterpoint to the quiet mezzanine. Only he and Rogers were up here - for once Loki was alone with someone who did not either despise him or want to make use of him. Loki did not know how to behave. Although there was nothing he could do aside from speak, he still wanted to show Rogers that he was useful, That he was worth something. That he may be a warm, compliant body, but that was not _all_ he was. None of those words were able to form on his tongue, and instead, when he parted his lips, a warning tumbled out.

“Sir, if I may, it perhaps may be unwise for you to be found with me. I do not mind if you wish to leave me here."

Rogers frowned and sighed, a combined gesture that spoke volumes to the man's weariness.

"To be honest Loki, that's not really my scene." He nodded down at the raucous crowd, hidden from view below them. "Besides, it's not good to leave someone tied up alone. Or so I've read."

Loki stared up at the ceiling, comparing that comment with his own experience. He had not just been tied up and left alone, he had been stuffed in a box, he had been blinded and deafened, he had been utterly isolated for weeks and months, an object for use, not a person to be pitied.

Very gently and diplomatically, Loki tried to warn Rogers what would happen when the Grandmaster returned. "If the Grandmaster finds you here, Sir, he will be curious what manner of master you will be to me."

Rogers growled, deep in his throat. “I’m no kind of master to you, Loki.”

Loki flexed his toes, the only part of his body he could move. The movement made him swing minutely in his silk cradle. He felt like a chrysalis, only what would emerge from the cocoon was not anything so beautiful as a butterfly. If Loki was to be reborn here on Midgard, it would be as Stark’s creature, in the form that _he_ desired. He would be the mortal’s personal whore, his whipping boy, his obedient slave. Every one of the Avengers would be his master, including Rogers. He could not believe that the man could not see what was plain before his face.

But of course, Loki could not contradict his betters. All he could do was grit his teeth and squirm in discomfort as the Captain’s incorrect and uncorrectable words hung in the air over his head

_“Ah, there you are sweetheart.”_

Loki’s neck ached as he wrenched his head back to look upside down. The Grandmaster swept up the stairs, Stark and Romanov on his heels, Topaz glowering behind. As always, the Grandmaster sounded surprised to see him, as though Loki was so unimportant that he fell out of his master’s mind as soon as he turned his back.

The Grandmaster leaned over Loki’s upturned face and kissed his lips, cupping his skull in his two hands, holding him as though he were delicate china.

He got right down to business, speaking in matter of fact tones.

“Now, Loki, I hope you don’t mind but I’m going to leave you here.”

Loki stared up at the Grandmaster’s grey eyes, and the vast sweep of the universe stared back at him, as ancient and terrible as time itself.

“Leave me...here?” he managed to whisper, fear and hope warring in his breast, unable to let either one show.

“Mmm-hmm. That’s right darling. I have to visit my brother, and well...heh...you know brothers, am I right? He can be just _tiresome_ when he sees something he wants to add to his collection.” He tapped Loki on the nose, a fond smile floating on his face. “Better not to risk it, hmm?”

“But…” Loki started, unsure what to say, whether to protest or to acquiesce, to beg to be taken or to beg to be left. “But, will you come back?” The Grandmaster’s words filtered through his panicked brain, swirling through his mind, erasing all other thoughts.

“Of _course_ ! Of course, darling. How could you even think I wouldn’t? I’ll definitely check in on you. Make sure our new _friend_ here is treating you right.” The Grandmaster nodded over his shoulder at Stark, who stood behind him, arms folded.

For some reason, tears pricked at Loki’s eyes. This was what he had hoped for, what he had been desperate for, but it cut him deeply. Was the Grandmaster really going to toss him aside, after everything he had done to him, after breaking Loki so completely to his will? Was he worth so little?

“You sold me?” Tears spilled over his cheeks, running over the Grandmaster’s hands and dripping onto the floor.

The Grandmaster sighed, still holding Loki’s head, rocking him gently in his cradle of silk. “Now, now, darling. Don’t be like that. Mr Stark here has given me some very generous gifts, including those darling bots you were playing with earlier. What kind of guest would I be if I didn’t give him something equally precious in return?” He pursed his lips, mock serious. “And Loki, I hear that you’ve been a teensy bit naughty on this world too. So isn’t it only fair that you stay here and make it up to them?”

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat, his chest aching with emotions he could not place. In the end, he could only agree with the decision his master had made. He had been sold, and that was that. He spoke in a whisper. “Of course, Grandmaster, if that’s what you think is best.”

“That’s the spirit. You can be a good little thing, Loki, if you put your mind to it. I know you’re going to do just fine here.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster.”

Loki managed to squeeze the words out of his mouth, but the Grandmaster had already turned away, picking up Rogers’ bottle of alcohol from the table on his way past. He had his foot on the stairs when he paused and turned back, looking over at Rogers with a thoughtful glint in his eye.

“You.”

Rogers pushed back his chair and stood up, back straight, shoulders back. Loki could hardly believe his boldness, to look the Grandmaster full in the face the way he did. He did not reply, merely waited for the Grandmaster to speak. Loki already knew what he was going to say. It was just as he had predicted.

“Now, _Captain Rogers_ , you’re one of the little group, hmm? This little gang? The _Avengers_?”

“Yes, I am.” Rogers confirmed it, his voice steady. Loki could see the charging bilgesnipe approaching but there was no way to avoid it. He closed his eyes.

“Wonderful.” The Grandmaster rubbed his hands together, his smile so thin that it eschewed all pretense of friendliness. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t approve of my sweetheart’s performance just now. Not good enough for you, _Cap-Tin_?

Rogers shrugged. He avoided eye contact with Stark and Romanov, focusing only on the Grandmaster himself. “He’s an enemy,” he said, as though that would explain his lack of enthusiasm to see Loki degraded, when actually it did just the opposite.

“Mmm. Well I’m sure he’d like to apologize for his sins _personally_. Isn’t that right, precious?”

The Grandmaster tossed the words over his shoulder to Loki, still wrapped in his bonds of silk, and he answered them the only way he knew how.

“Yes. Yes, Captain. Please, I would like to apologize.”

Rogers’ jaw clenched. “Go on then.”

“No, no, no. Not like that. _Personally_.”

“I don’t…”

The Grandmaster spoke over him as though Rogers had not spoken. “Now you know I can’t leave my little Loki behind if I think he’s going to be mistreated. Not if I think there’s someone here who holds a _grudge_. That’s not the case, is it, Captain?”

The struggle was plain on Rogers’ face, and Loki was dizzy from holding his breath before he said, “No. I don’t hold a grudge.”

The Grandmaster clapped. “”Wonderful. Wonderful. Well, let’s have Loki give you his very best apology, and then I’ll be on my way.”

There was no way out of it. Even from his suspended position Loki could feel the intensity of the glare Stark was giving Rogers. He did not want to be deprived of his prize, not after giving away his valuable possessions. He wanted Loki for himself, for his own purposes, and he was not going to let Rogers stop him.

The Grandmaster set one gentle hand on the back of Loki’s neck and plucked him out of his silk cocoon as easily as though he were a butterfly. The silk fell away and drifted around him as the Grandmaster let him fall onto his feet then lowered down to his knees, slow as sinking into heavy water. Under the layers of silk, Loki was nude, even the leather harness had been removed. Only the cuffs on his wrists and ankles remained, and they were not connected to anything.

“Oh, and you know what? Loki even has a little treat for you that we haven’t tried yet!” The Grandmaster slipped two fingers into Loki’s mouth and stroked the gold pegs in his jaw, tapping the heavy piercing in his tongue.

The Grandmaster flicked Loki's controller from the air and handed it to Romanov. Loki idly noticed a smear of shimmering makeup on her jaw, matching her peacock dress and the stripe under the Grandmaster’s lip.

“There you go, my dear. Why don’t you...heh...turn him on. Let’s show the good Captain a good time, hmm?”

Romanov smiled and took the controller, an eager glint in her eye. Loki looked down at the floor, his hands neatly folded in his lap, his intertwined fingers were so pale they were almost translucent. There was nothing he could do. There was nowhere for him to look for help.

Loki would have to force Captain Rogers, the one person here who had looked at him as something other than a warm hole, to see him as he truly was.

Loki got on his hands and knees, and crawled.


	30. Implants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends - hope your weekend is going well!
> 
> Everyone who wanted to know what the implants were for - prepare to regret your curiosity. *EVIL LAUGH*
> 
> (Tags are updated)

Captain Rogers' shoes were polished to such a high shine that it almost hurt Loki’s eyes to look at them. There was nowhere else to look, though. Loki knelt at the Captain’s feet, staring at his immaculate shoes, and waited for his fate. He knew what was coming. Rogers would use Loki's mouth and Loki would suckle on his cock like the most obedient of whores and swallow his seed as though it were delicious nectar. His mouth had been used so many times before, this time should not have felt any different.

But it did.

All eyes were on him - the Grandmaster, Stark, Romanov, Topaz and Rogers himself. Loki was a bug squirming under their gaze, and he wished that Romanov would activate the control that blinded him, so he would not have to feel the weight of their judgement. He knew what he was. He  _ knew _ . He did not have to be reminded of it with every breath he took.

“Alright.” Rogers was resigned. He could see just as clearly as Loki that there was no getting away from what had to be done. As unappealing and unattractive as Loki was, it seemed Rogers would do what he was required to do to complete Loki’s sale, and transfer ownership of him to Stark, and to Midgard. “Over here, Loki.”

Rogers headed back to the lounge area and Loki followed on his hands and knees, the hard marble floor bruising his flesh as he crawled. The soft couch that Rogers chose was set before a rug, and Loki gratefully settled on the softer surface, taking his place between Rogers’ feet. The Captain’s large hand settled on Loki’s head, stroking his hair back from his face. “Nice and slow,” he said in a low voice, his brow furrowed and anxious. “Take it nice and slow.”

“Yes, Captain, Sir.”

Behind him, Loki heard the soft sounds of the remaining members of their party arranging themselves around the lounge. He tried to block it out, and concentrate only on the task before him. Romanov was there somewhere, with her fingers on the buttons of the controller, but Loki did not think about that. It would happen no matter that he did - obedience was no defense against punishment. Stark had demonstrated that very thoroughly with his legionnaires. Loki had done his very best to serve Stark’s guests and perform to expectations, and still the legionnaires had had no mercy on him. That was his lot in life, but he still had no idea how to cope with it except to try harder. The danger was too great, if he did not.

Loki sat up on his heels and reached for the fastening of the Captain’s clothing. He moved slowly, as he had been ordered to do. Slow would not please the Grandmaster, but that was not Loki’s problem to solve. Stark or Romanov would solve that for him, forcing both him and Rogers into whatever acts they deemed entertaining enough.

Loki unbuttoned the Captain’s pants and leaned down. He was surprised to realize that this was the first time in a very long time that he had been required to provide this service. His mouth had been used as a hole to fuck hundreds of time, thousands, maybe, if he could trust the memory of the ever-changing counter from his time in the box. But that was different, that had been cock after cock thrusting in his helplessly open mouth. This was something that required more thought.

He gave Rogers’ cock a slow lick, lingering on the head, paying attention to the bundle of nerves that clustered underneath. He was good at this, he remembered. Or he had been, once, when he had been allowed to choose his own lovers and to choose what he did with them. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the sting of tears. That part of his life was over. It had been false, it had been a deception, and a trick. This was his life now, to do what he was told and be used as his owner pleased. This was the only thing that he needed to concern himself with.

The cock in his mouth began to harden. A breath of relief filled Loki's lungs. At least he would be able to please the Captain, despite his reluctance. He kept his pace slow. The Captain’s hand was light on the back of his head, merely guiding him, not forcing, not shoving him down and using his throat. In some ways, rough treatment was preferable. He could at least be sure he was doing what he was supposed to be doing, if he had no choice about it. This was more intimate. Loki had to stay in the moment, to decide what to do next, to judge the level of Roger’s pleasure and make sure he was enjoying himself.

“Ready?” That was Romanov, and Loki tried to ready himself as well, although she obviously was not addressing him.

Rogers replied. “Yeah, yeah, OK.” He was breathless, as though he was already on the edge of climax, which could hardly be the case. Loki had barely gotten started.

A soft click, and then the heavy piercing in Loki’s tongue began to vibrate with a long, slow pulse. Rogers gasped and gripped Loki’s hair, holding him in place. Loki froze, the captain’s thick cock resting on his tongue. He dared to look up, and saw Rogers was red-faced, his eyes dark, his lips full and red. He looked half-wrecked already, and Loki knew that he may have some skill with his mouth, but it was not  _ that  _ much. It was not so much to reduce Rogers to this state unless he had gone a very long time without release or unless - Loki’s heart sank as he realized the truth - unless he was very inexperienced.

Loki had underestimated the Grandmaster. He was playing his games, always. Perhaps he did want to ensure that Loki would be well used here on Midgard, but that was not the full story of this little scene. The Grandmaster had seen through Rogers' tough military exterior and wanted to poke at what was inside. Underneath the uniform, Rogers was a young man, anxious and unschooled. Perfect fodder for the Grandmaster’s games. Now, Rogers and Loki were both toys to be played with. Romanov as well, as Loki doubted she was unaware of her friend’s inexperience. Her soft ‘ready’ had allowed him to prepare himself as best he could.

Shame flooded through him. Loki had given no thought to the other players here, only to himself. Stark had planned ahead. He had taken his pleasure from Loki in private, and then arranged for his machines to use him in public. Rogers had made no such preparation and had no such defense. Loki deserved public humiliation, but Rogers did not. There was nothing Loki could do now, but kneel where he was, remain as still as he could and let Rogers try to regain some control over himself.

The noise from the party downstairs faded, and the silence and stillness of the mezzanine soaked into Loki’s skin. Every little sound was magnified. The creak of the leather chair, Rogers’ harsh breathing, the soft buzz of the piercing in Loki’s tongue. The hand holding Loki in place eased its grip, and Loki took that as his cue to move. He was as slow as he could be, as gentle as he could be. He could not stop the vibration, but he tried to avoid the sensitive areas with it. He lowered his head and took the captain’s cock deeper into his mouth, letting the piercing rub along the shaft rather than the head.

“More?” Romanov asked, her voice suppressed and breathy now. The action playing out before her eyes was so unlike the shamefully profane display Loki had presented earlier.

This was something else.

This was not  _ Loki’s _ shame, this was the Captain’s shame on display for them all to see, and Loki wished with all his heart that he was not the one to cause it. Rogers had been kind to him. He had stayed with him and given him water, he had tried to protest his treatment when no one else had. Rogers did not deserve this.

“Yeah,” he said, in answer to Romanov's question, although he clearly meant  _ no _ . He did not want this. He did not want to be humiliated in this manner, before his teammates and before Loki as well, but they were both caught in the Grandmaster’s web and both had to see it through.

Another click, and the pegs implanted in Loki’s jaw  _ changed _ .

Rogers and Loki both reacted at the same time, but neither of them was fast enough. Loki let out a horrified, gargling moan, but it drowned out by Rogers’ shout of alarm. The pegs propped Loki’s mouth open, which he had expected. He had  _ not  _ expected the squirming transformation in his mouth that happened next. The implants altered shape into soft feelers growing from Loki's jaw, two on the top, two on the bottom. Loki felt the change, but before he could do anything, the feelers were wrapped around Rogers’ cock, gripping and massaging him with a slow, pulsing vibration.

Rogers grabbed Loki’s head and tried to pull him off, but he was only pulling at himself. They were connected - the writhing implants were securely anchored in Loki’s jaw and equally securely wrapped around Rogers’ cock. Loki was dragged along when Rogers leapt to his feet, his fist in Loki’s hair, all gentleness forgotten. Loki wrapped his arms around Rogers thighs. The worst choice would be to let Rogers’ yank his head away. He would injure himself and then Loki would be punished for that, as he would no doubt be punished for this.

“...oh my. You’re a sensitive one. How about you relax and enjoy it, Captain?”

“Nat!” Roger’s voice was strangled, his body a mass of quivering tension.

“I can’t turn it off. It doesn’t...Steve, it doesn't hurt, right? Just ride it out, if you can.”

“Holy…” Rogers’ sat down -  _ fell  _ down - his legs folding under him as he landed heavily on the leather couch. Loki was pulled down too, his neck aching from the sudden movement. His face was still buried in the captain’s lap and it seemed Rogers was going to take Romanov’s advice and ride it out. Loki relaxed his grip around the mans legs and turned his attention back to his task. He needed to end this, to get this over with - for Rogers' sake.

Of course, there was nothing for Loki to do, now. His careful plan to pleasure the captain slowly and respectfully was gone. He could not control the implants and he could not even lift his head. All he could do was angle his head so he could breathe, and try to ignore the squirming, writhing tentacles in his mouth. If he threw up now, it would go very, very badly for him.

Rogers was shaking in his seat, his hips jerking. He still held Loki’s hair, but now he pulled him forward rather than tried to drag him away. As he relaxed, he gained control. Soon, he was able to move Loki to his liking, to encourage him bob his head and perhaps, hopefully, enjoy himself. The implants responded to Rogers’ direction, although when he tried to slowly lift Loki's head up, they tightened and he gave up that plan.

He let Loki lower his head again and the feelers relaxed, spiraling around his cock, softly pulsing, rubbing and massaging him in a way Loki desperately hoped was pleasurable. For Loki, with his jaw propped open and even his tongue useless, the tentacles felt a gross violation and an insult, even by the standards he was used to. His mouth was not even good enough to fuck. He had to be modified even for that use.

The Grandmaster was talking again, and Stark’s voice occasionally chimed in, but Loki could not understand the words. The pulsing of the implants vibrated through his jawbone and buzzed in his ears, drowning out everything else, growing in intensity as the moments ticked by. Judging by the rigid length in his mouth, and the twitching desperation of Rogers’ hips, it would not go on for much longer.

The captain’s climax, when it came, sounded like a combination of pain and disgust, but the taste of his seed on Loki’s tongue was proof enough that he had, at least physically, been satisfied. As soon as Rogers climaxed, the implants withdrew. They melded back into their peg-like shapes and released the lock on Loki’s jaw, allowing him to close his mouth. Rogers pulled his head up and let him fall onto his back on the rug.

He was done with. His purpose was served.

The captain rearranged his clothes and stood up without a word, turning his back on the room as he left. Loki watched him go.

He was the only person who had seemed to care about Loki even the slightest bit.

He did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Gif of Liz Lemon on stage smiling while everyone boos her**
> 
> (I don't know how to insert a gif, so you will have to imagine it)


	31. Couch

Loki lay on the rug where he had been left, both hands clamped over his mouth. He was aware of activity around him - voices, laughter and movement - but he lay at the bottom of a deep ocean. Everything around him was muffled and distorted, mere reflections on the surface of his consciousness. Sometimes a hand would reach down and touch him, ruffle his hair, stroke down his flank, rub over his rounded belly. He let it happen. He didn’t know who it was, but that didn’t matter. Everyone here had the right to touch him as they pleased. It made no difference if it was Stark, Romanov, Rogers, or the Grandmaster himself.

_ Not Rogers. He’s gone. He saw what you are and he’s gone. _

Everything faded into silence, and the lights on the mezzanine level dimmed and shut off, leaving Loki in darkness. He did not mind. He preferred it that way. In darkness, he could not see himself, and he could hope to be unseen, as well. He drifted there, his mind blank.

Time passed.

_ “Hey, Loki. You in there?” _

Loki stared blankly at the shoes in front of his face. They were not as shiny as Rogers’ shoes had been, and they were not the thin straps and pointed toes that Romanov had worn either, so they must belong to Stark. Loki blinked and unwrapped one hand from over his mouth, reaching out to touch the tips of his fingers to Stark’s shoe. That was all he could do. His voice was gone, his tongue turned to lead in his remade mouth.

A soft cloth fell over him. It took Loki a long time to realize that the cloth was warming as well as covering him, and it must therefore be a blanket. Tears squeezed out from his eyes and dripped onto the rug, where they were absorbed as though they had never been.

Time passed.

_ “Drink this.” _

A plastic tube poked at the hand covering Loki’s mouth. There was an urgent sensation coming from his belly, but Loki could not place the feeling. It was as though he was brand new to this body, brand new to this world, and he had no idea how to interpret the messages his nerves were bringing to his mind.

_ “Loki, you need to drink.” _

Loki let his shielding hand fall away, and the tube was slipped between his lips. It took him a long time to remember how to suck at a straw, but once he did the liquid began to flow down his throat and fill up his stomach, quieting the urgent and uncomfortable feeling there. He drank all that he was given, and then the straw was taken away.

_ “He’s gone, in case you didn’t hear me any of the other times. He took the legionnaires and he left.” _

It was Stark speaking. Loki recognized his voice, although the shoes were different. His formal shoes were gone, replaced by well-worn soft shoes with dirty white laces. Loki looked at them for a while, and then reached out his hand again to touch Stark’s foot with his fingertips.

“Yeah, there you go. Take your time. If you can get up, I’ll take you upstairs.”

_ Get up.  _ Loki understood that. Stark had use for him and if he did not go willingly he would be punished until he did.

Like a newborn lamb, Loki rolled onto his belly and tried to get his hands and knees under him. He was clumsy, his muscles stiff from the long period of stillness, and it took all his concentration to lever himself up from the rug and onto his knees. The blanket slipped off his shoulders and a shiver played over his bare skin. The mezzanine was cool now. The whole space was chill and empty, nothing like the warm, vibrant and lively hall it had been when Loki had first entered. By the time Loki had struggled to his knees Stark was gone from his side, but he quickly returned with a chair on wheels. He laid the blanket on the chair then half-helped, half-dragged Loki up into the seat.

“OK, good. We’re making progress. Good. You’re doing good. We’re going upstairs, OK? Back to the penthouse. Remember that? That’s where we’re going.”

Stark’s words washed over him as Loki waited to be strapped into the chair for transportation. He wondered why Stark was doing this himself, when he could have Friday and her legionnaires simply drag him to wherever Stark wanted him, but he did not ask. It was not his place to question his new owner.

The blanket was tugged into place, and wrapped around Loki’s legs and body. No straps were fastened around him, though, which Loki did not understand. Perhaps this was a test, a way for Stark to tell if Loki would be obedient to his wishes without being forced.

“It’s gonna be bright in the elevator, you might wanna close your eyes.”

Loki did close his eyes, simply because Stark had suggested it and Stark would know what was best. Behind his eyelids, the light was almost blinding, and Loki shaded his eyes with his hand, the other hand having crept back to cover his mouth. They rose, and then the doors opened onto Stark’s penthouse, dimly lit and cozy. The air smelled of spiced food and alcohol, but Loki did not open his eyes. He was afraid to see what awaited him here. If Stark had guests that would require entertainment, or even just drinks and food, Loki would do his best to serve, but he put off the moment for as long as possible.

“OK, home sweet home. Nat’s in the spare room and the other room….well...En Dwi Gast left something behind that we don’t want to deal with right now, so you get the couch. Lucky for you it’s a nice couch. Thor’s up at the training center. I don’t know about you but I think we’ve all had a lot to deal with today, so he’ll be back tomorrow. Can you get up because I think I hurt my back picking you up the first time…”

Loki tried his best to pick out the relevant orders from Stark’s words, but there was too much information there for him to parse. A silence grew and Loki was afraid that he had missed something important. Stark wheeled him over to the lounge area and walked around the chair to face him. Loki looked at his feet, sure now that he had done something wrong, but he did not know what it was, or how to fix it.

“Sir.” Loki’s voice was whisper quiet. His throat burned and ached when he spoke. He tried to keep his tongue from touching the implants in his mouth, but of course that was impossible. His words strangled themselves before they passed his lips, choking him with memories.

Stark crouched before the chair, his hands on Loki’s knees, his deep brown eyes reflecting the dim lights of the room.

“Don’t think about it,” he said, looking up into Loki's face. “That’s my advice. Don’t think about it tonight. He’s gone, and you’re here. Thor will come back tomorrow, the sun will rise, and it’s a new day. Right now, just rest. Can you do that?”

There was only one answer Loki could give, and he forced the words out of his mouth.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Great. Now all you’ve got to do is stand up, turn, and sit down on the couch. Let’s do it.”

Despite his best efforts, Loki ended up sprawled face down on the soft cushion of Stark's furniture. Stark picked his legs up and twisted him around so he was at least lying flat, taking the pressure off his stuffed belly. He even pulled the blanket back into place and tucked it in.

“OK! That’s good enough for now, I think. Bathroom’s over there, - " Stark pointed off into the distance, too quickly for Loki to follow "- and the kitchen is there, but there’s water and another protein shake for you right here.” Loki followed Stark’s gesture and saw two bottles on the low table near the couch where he lay.

Stark paused and Loki knew it was his cue to respond. He had to express his gratitude, and abase himself before his new owner, to show his submission and his willingness to be used in any manner Stark desired, but he could not utter even a single word. All he could do was stare, wide eyed, craving something that he could not name. He was terrified that if he made a single misstep, everything would crumble away and he would find himself in free-fall, sinking alone into eternal darkness.

His fingers crept out from the blanket. He needed to touch Stark’s foot again, to prove to himself that this was real, that  _ Stark  _ was real and Loki truly was on Midgard.

His fingers were taken up by Stark’s warm hand. Stark crouched down by his side, weariness and stress engraved on his face. The cheerful expression he had worn for the party was gone, as though it had never been. The man was exhausted, and Loki was keeping him from his bed. Guilt gnawed at him, adding to the shame that he felt for Rogers humiliation. He tried to open his mouth and speak, but no words came out.

Stark squeezed his hand and tucked it back under the blanket. “Get some rest, Loki.”

Loki nodded, glad that he had heard and understood Stark’s order. He would rest now, and be ready for anything and everything that Stark required from him in the morning.

Stark left, disappearing into the shadows of the penthouse. 

Loki closed his eyes, and slept.


	32. Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends - I just want to say how much your comments and support means to me. I've had a tough week at work and every time I got the comment notification email on my phone it cheered me up and helped me get through it. You guys are the best, I love you all!

_ “You awake?” _

Loki  _ was  _ awake, but he had been lying motionless with his eyes closed, wishing that he were not. He was in Stark’s home, and the thought of what the day might bring was overwhelming. His memories of the previous night were patchy and confusing. He knew that he had been sold - Stark had bought him and given him a very thorough demonstration of the treatment he could expect from his new owner. He remembered red silk, bright lights, and metal hands clamped on his flesh. He remembered choking, and screaming, and Captain Rogers turning his back and walking away. He didn't know what he had done to incur the captain’s disdain, but something dark and devastating lurked in the shadows of his mind.

Loki was coward enough to leave it there.

He opened his eyes. Romanov was standing by the expanse of glass that covered one wall of Stark’s home. She was wearing simple blue pants and a striped shirt, her hair pulled back and her face bare. It was as though she had shed the skin that she had worn the night before. Not just the peacock-silk dress, but her posture, her face, and the energy that surrounded her was changed.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Loki stood up, only realizing that he was naked under the blanket when it fell from his shoulders and puddled on the floor. He did not reach for it, and Romanov did not avert her gaze. She looked him up and down before she pointed to a small pile of clothes that sat next to two bottles on a nearby table.

“You can get dressed.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Loki ignored the full bottles and hurried to obey Romanov’s order. He had no idea what kind of duties awaited him here, but Romanov should not have had to wait for him to wake to instruct him. He should have been ready and eager to perform for whoever had use of him. His fingers stumbled on the fastening of his new trousers as he remembered that Romanov had not had a turn with him last night. But if that was what she wanted, why did she tell him to dress? It made no sense, and Loki at once gave up trying to understand. He would be told what to do, and then he would do it. If Romanov wanted him on his back for her, he would do his very best to oblige her. If she wanted his hands, or his mouth…

Loki clamped both hands over his face, his stomach heaving, horror clawing through him.

_ His mouth. No, no, no, no… _

“Bathroom’s that way, if you’re gonna puke.”

Loki ran for the door Romanov pointed to, and barely made it in time to vomit painfully into the toilet. He had nothing in his stomach but bile, and it burned his sore throat as it came up.

Romanov handed him a damp washcloth and a bottle of water, which he gratefully accepted, wiping his face and rinsing out his mouth. He spat into the toilet, trying to rid his mouth not just of the taste of bile, but of the memory of what he had done to Rogers the night before. His fingers brushed his lips, but he did not try to touch the implants. His mouth had been changed, transformed, and now it was not his own. It belonged to his owner and could be changed into that  _ thing  _ with the click of a button.

He threw up again, just water this time. When he was done he stayed exactly where he was, frozen on his knees on the hard tile, as still and silent as possible, trying to avoid the attention of his memories.

Beside him, Romanov rummaged in a cabinet and pulled out a toothbrush and a tube of cleaning paste. She set it on the counter near where he knelt, her movements brisk and efficient.

“Why don’t you shower while you’re here. Take your time, there’s no rush. You’ve had a rough night. Or, I guess a rough year, am I right?”

Loki coughed and forced himself to speak, his voice a rasping whisper.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He didn’t know if he was acknowledging her order for him to shower, or acknowledging that the past year had been very, very hard on him. It didn’t matter. She knew it all anyway. She had seen him used the night before. There was no doubt about how Loki had been treated by the Grandmaster and how he would be treated by Stark. He had no more secrets.

The shower was an ordeal. Loki was exhausted, even though he had been allowed to sleep all night. He could barely stand, and once he was in the cubicle with the water running, he gave up and sat on the floor to wash himself. When he washed his belly, the squirming, alien sensation of the eggs under his skin made him throw up again, but as there was nothing in his stomach it hardly mattered.

He did not feel any better once he was clean and dressed in the clothes Romanov had given him. The pants did not button over his belly, and the black shirt stretched out over that same area. It was not flattering, but it was better than being naked, and better than the humiliating clothes Stark had had him wear the night before. He did not look in the mirror as he brushed his teeth as fast as he could. He did not want to see his white eyes, the tattoos on his face, the gold rings in his ears or the obedience disc on his neck. He did not want to see any of it.

Thor was waiting for him outside the bathroom door.

The sight of him leaning against the wall, his arms folded, his face dark, transported Loki back to the spacecraft hanger. Thor had had just such a look upon his face before he abandoned him to the Grandmaster’s non-existent mercy. Unconsciously, Loki covered the obedience disc with his hand, as though that would protect him if Thor decided he was in need of further discipline.

_ He doesn’t have the control device. Stark does. _

Loki did not know why that thought was comforting, given what Stark had done to him the previous night, but it was.

“Loki.”

Thor’s voice was a rumble of dark thunder, and Loki rocked back on his heels, holding the door frame for balance.

“Thor.”

Loki tried to keep his voice neutral - the man standing across the hall was a stranger to him. They had drifted apart for a long time, carried by different tides and currents, but Loki had always held out hope that they would come back together. Now he knew that they would not. Their brotherly relationship had been a lie, and the weight of that lie had broken it irreparably.

“I am glad to see you, brother. You are well?”

Loki shook his head, impatient. If Thor cared about how he was, he was too late now to show it.

“I am as you see me, Thor.”

Loki managed to keep his voice even, but his head swam as he spoke, the effort of standing and facing his not-brother too much for him in his exhausted state. He floated above himself, watching his body talking with his not-brother, wasting time. Thor had no love for him, he had made that very clear. Loki had no desire to incur Stark’s wrath by dawdling here wasting time.

“Will you excuse me, please?”

Loki tried to move past Thor and back to the main room, but Thor grabbed his arm and halted him, fingers pressing into his flesh. Loki froze, his feet rooted to the spot, every memory of being held unwilling flooding through his mind in a powerful wave of sensation and emotion. The Grandmaster. The box. Commander Lenesshar. The modification chamber. Kuuth and his entire crew. Stark’s legionnaires. The list was so, so long. They had all put their hands on him and every time, Loki had been helpless to prevent it, helpless to defend himself or resist.

But not now. Thor had no authority over him unless Stark said he did, and he had not said anything of the sort. Loki twisted out of Thor’s grip and stepped back with a bow that he hoped was respectful enough to avoid Thor’s swift-striking anger.

“Pardon me. If you have use for me you will need to discuss it with Stark.”

Loki turned and practically ran back to the main room. Relief washed over him when he saw that Stark was there, a cup in his hand, his hair tousled from sleep. He was with Romanov at the vast windows, looking out over the city. Loki did not want to interrupt their conversation, but he needed to be close to Stark in case Thor came after him. He hurried on bare feet to stand at a respectful distance, not close enough to hear their conversation, but close enough that they would hear him if he needed them to. Thor followed him, of course, growling with frustration that he had not got his way.

“Stark,” he called, breaking the quiet of the room. Stark turned and looked over at him.

“Hey big guy, what’s up?”

“I would have words with my brother.”

Stark raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Loki, who took a nervous step toward him, so that Stark was between him and Thor. Stark looked between them, confused, but Romanov stepped in.

“Why don’t we all talk? Steve’s gonna be here soon. Let’s take a seat.”

The elevator door chose that opportune moment to open, and Captain Rogers walked in. He was freshly showered and wearing casual clothes. Unlike Romanov’s casual attire, the Captain’s light brown trousers and bright white t-shirt did not transform him, they merely highlighted his powerful physique and his stiff posture all the more. He nodded at the room, his eyes resting uneasily on Loki for a long moment. Loki kept his eyes down, after that. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Loki knew very well who would be the target for it when it broke.

“Wow, OK then. Let’s all sit down for the world’s most awkward conversation.”

Stark pointed them to the seating area, guiding Loki to sit on the couch he had slept on. Loki sat, picking up his blanket from the floor and holding it on his lap. It was a flimsy shield, but it was all he had.

Stark, Thor, Romanov and Rogers sat, and Loki twitched, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. They were all too close, and he was outnumbered. He had no access to his magic, and Stark could drop him with a single twitch of his finger on the control device. Loki lifted the blanket, covering his belly and chest, and then a moment later he covered his mouth too, until only his eyes peeked out over the edge of it.

Stark, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Loki, took control of the conversation. “Alright, so let’s debrief. I’ll go first. En Dwi Gast told me he’s going to visit his brother, who he didn’t name - "

“Taneleer Tivan,” Loki said without thinking, “Also known as The Collector.”

They all looked at him, and his breath stopped with the force of their gaze. His fists clenched in the blanket, his eyes wide.

“How do you know that?” Thor demanded. “You knew the Grandmaster’s true name also. What else do you know?”

“I have studied!” Loki shot back, dropping the blanket, infuriated with his oafish not-brother. “Remember all those days you mocked me for spending time in the library? That it was I was doing, Thor - studying! Yes, I know the names of the Elders of the Universe, perhaps if you knew them too we would not be here now.”

“Alright.” Stark held up his hands. “Let’s stay focused. En Dwi Gast is going to visit Taneleer Tivan. He said a whole bunch of stuff, we’ll have to go over the recordings later, but the gist of it was that he wants his brother to agree with what he’s going to do. Loki, what do you know of Tivan. Is he going to agree?”

Loki smoothed the blanket over his lap, the soft fibers soothing under his fingers. “Taneleer Tivan has a vast collection of strange and exotic items, including living creatures. If he lost some of his collection due to Thanos’ actions, he will almost certainly agree to restore it.”

“Great. Well, Thanos wiped out half of all life in the universe, so that probably includes some of this collection.”

_ Half of all life. _

Loki finally understood what had happened on Sakaar and on Midgard, and what must have happened to the crogall that had made them so desperate for a brood host. He recalled Muugzi’s words as she had prepared him for breeding.

_ We crogall were few enough before, and now we are half that number. We must breed, or we will die. _

There was nothing he could do now with such knowledge. The crogall had bred him and now their eggs lived in his body, feeding on his food or feeding on him if he did not provide for them. With a cold shiver, Loki remembered that Stark had given him a bottle of food the night before, but Loki had not drunk it. He had been too tired and disoriented, and he had forgotten. The bottle still sat on the table on the other side of Stark. Loki stared at it, the voices that continued around him fading into the background. Did he dare reach for it, or ask Stark for permission to drink it? How long could he go without food, before the eggs started to feed on him?

He did not know, and he was too afraid to ask Stark for the bottle, so he just sat there, the blanket tight under his hands, and let the voices wash over him.

“Loki?”

He snapped back to attention, horrified to see the sun had moved noticeably in the sky while he had been drifting. Stark was speaking to him, and he was waiting for an answer. Loki cleared his throat.

“I beg your pardon, Sir. Could you repeat the question?”

Stark gave him a look, and Loki cringed, holding the blanket up under his chin. It was obvious he had not been paying attention.

“Never mind. I was telling you what En Dwi Gast said about ...you know...your situation. But we can talk about it later.”

Loki nodded, accepting Stark’s decision without argument. “Yes, Sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, you can go back to calling me Stark if you like.”

“I…yes, Stark. If you wish.”

“Is that a good idea?” Romanov was looking at Loki with a thoughtful gaze. “He said he was going to check up on things, make sure Loki was ‘well looked after’”. Romanov made a gesture at those words, curling her fingers in the air, her mouth twisted. “We don’t want to piss him off. He’s our only hope of getting our people back.”

“It matters not what he calls you.” Thor leaned forward as he spoke, pointed at Loki. “My brother will be coming with me, back to New Asgard. He will be  _ well looked after _ there.”

“Er…I don’t think that’s what he meant, big guy.”

Thor stood, towering over the others, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I will not leave him here to be mistreated.”

Romanov leaned back in her chair, her arms loose in her lap. Loki recognized her attempt to de-escalate, to calm the energy of the room. “He should probably stay here until En Dwi Gast has done what he said he would do.”

Rogers stirred, avoiding looking in Loki’s direction. “It might be better for him to be with family.” His words were awkward, stilted, and Loki assumed he would just rather Loki be gone from his sight and his mind. He did not blame him.

Stark mirrored Romanov’s open body language. “He should stay here with me. That’s what En Dwi Gast expects and I agree with Romanov - we can’t risk pissing him off.”

Thor held up his hand and his axe slammed into it. Loki’s hair prickled from the energy warping around the thing, the Uru blade radiating arcane power.

“I will stay.”

The words fell from his mouth before he even knew he was going to speak.

“I will stay. Stark is the one who...who bought me and he is the one who has claim on me. I do not know if the Grandmaster will care what happens to me now, but if he does check, he will be pleased to see me...well looked after.”

He made the same curled-finger gesture in the air that Romanov had made, and Stark snorted.

“Great. Well that’s decided then. Loki stays.”

Thor sat back down, defeated, and Loki hugged the blanket on his knees. In truth, he was almost sure the Grandmaster would not give him another thought in all the rest of his long life, but he did not want to go with Thor. The idea of Thor being in control of the obedience disk made him break out in a cold sweat. Stark would use him as he wished, but at least he would not tell Loki it was for his own good and he ought to be grateful. Stark was not so bad. He had given him this blanket and a soft couch to sleep on, instead of leaving him naked on the hard floor.

“Oh, you didn’t drink this.” Stark noticed the bottle next to him, and handed it over to Loki.

Loki took it with a grateful look, and drank it down. He knew he had made the right decision. Stark was the better choice.


	33. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for shameless retcon of Ragnarok. It's been a while since I saw Ragnarok, so I am not sure if my retconning actually works for the setup, but who cares! This is fanfic, anything is possible!
> 
> Hope you're all doing great, and looking forward to a fantastic weekend!

They all watched in silence as Stark played the three-dimensional recording of the Grandmaster’s departure. Topaz had landed the ship in the middle of a busy street, and vehicles had backed up all around it, many with blue and red lights flashing on their roofs. The Grandmaster and Stark ignored the chaos around them, strolling to the ship as casually as taking a stroll through a park. The double line of legionnaires that escorted them may have had something to do with that, as neither the angry crowds or the armed law enforcement patrols could get near them.

Loki bit his lip as he saw just how many legionnaires Stark had gifted to the Grandmaster. At least three dozen of the humanoid robots marched into the ship in precise lockstep - a very high price for what Stark had gained in return. The Grandmaster seemed pleased enough with the bargain, though. He wrapped his arm wrapped warmly around Stark’s shoulders as they watched the legionnaires board.

“Now, you take very good care of my little Loki!” The Grandmaster wagged a teasing finger in Stark’s face, but his broad smile and twinkling eyes erased any true threat. “If he’s not well taken care of I might...heh...I might just have to steal him back for myself.” The elder sighed dreamily, looking off in the sky while Topaz glowered beside him. “Ah, but I’m sure you’ll do just fine. He's a bit used up, but Loki’s an incorrigible little slut and I can tell you're going to get the best out of him.”

The flickering image of Stark laughed heartily and agreed.

Loki hugged himself and shrank into the cushions. He knew it was true - Stark had proved it the night before - but the shame of it still stung. Loki forced himself to look back at the recording. Stark would want him to pay attention, and Loki could not afford any mistakes.

The image of the Grandmaster strolled up the ramp to the ship. Whatever else had been talked about, Loki had missed it, and he hoped it had not been anything important. The Grandmaster had only one more thing to say.

“You know, I like you Stark. If you get bored and want to do any more business, just, you know, give me a holler.”

He gestured to Stark’s chest, where Loki presumed the control device had been hanging on its golden chain.

“Sure thing,” Stark said on the recording. As if struck by an afterthought, he added, "Should I be worried about whoever put those eggs in him?"

They all leaned forward at that, even Loki himself. The crogall had not been at all concerned about giving him back to the Grandmaster once they had impregnated him. At the time, Loki had been too revolted and despairing to even wonder why.

The small image of the Grandmaster laughed and waved a dismissive hand. "The crogall? No, no, no. The nearest ship will come and pick up the hatchlings that survive, but they're not exactly the nurturing types, you know? If the spawning goes well they're going to make you an offer for Loki, probably a good one. I hear workable brood-hosts are rare. So, you know..." He gave Stark a wink, or what must pass for a wink on Sakaar, and a few moments later, the ship and its passengers launched lightly into the atmosphere. 

Stark shut off the recording, and silence reigned.

***

Romanov and Rogers left not long after. There seemed to be nothing left to say, and Rogers could not get into the elevator fast enough. Romanov was kind enough to bid Loki goodbye before she left a few minutes later.

“Goodbye, Lady Romanov,” Loki replied to her, trying to remember the courtesy that used to be effortless for him. The Grandmaster had liked his manners - perhaps the Midgardians would too. “I hope to see you again soon.”

“If you like,” she said with a surprised quirk of her lip.

“Yes, Ma’am. If..that is...if you do not mind.” Loki found he was not just being polite. Romanov was the closest thing he had to a neutral party - she was not family and she had not given any indication of wanting to make use of him. She had even given him water and a towel when he had vomited that morning. He would not be so presumptuous as to call her a friend, but perhaps she would not mind if he no longer considered her an enemy.

The elevator doors closed behind her, and Loki turned back to Stark and Thor. At once he was terrified that his treacherous thoughts were written clear on his face. Romanov was not an enemy, but neither were Stark and Thor! No one here on Midgard was his enemy; they were his  _ saviors _ . Without them, Loki would even now be on the Grandmaster’s ship, traded for passage to Knowhere to visit the Collector. He would be sold or rented or shared, trussed up like a pig or merely blinded and deafened and handed over for entertainment to anyone who wanted him. How dare he think such ungrateful thoughts!

If he had not already been sitting, Loki would have dropped to his knees. As it was, he hugged the blanket tight on his lap and leaned forward, presenting as small a target as he could, hoping to be ignored.

“Loki, I must speak with you.”

Thor stood and began to pace, his heavy tread traveling through the floor and up through Loki’s bare feet, vibrating in his sensitive bones.

Loki glanced over at Stark, hoping he would forbid it, but he waved at Thor to continue. Loki had no choice but to hear his not-brother’s words.

“I understand you are angry with me, and I must confess I am still somewhat angry with you, but Loki, we are brothers! You must know that you will be safer with me than…” Thor looked over at Stark, his eyes narrowed.

Stark did not take offense, instead, he asked Thor a question. “What are you angry with him about? Is this about the betrayal?”

“It is!” Thor declared, his pacing increasing in speed. “Loki was ready to betray me on Sakaar, to sound the alarms and bring the Grandmaster’s guards down on our heads! Asgard would have been destroyed and all my people with it. Indeed, I  _ am  _ still angry about that betrayal!”

Stark turned to Loki. “Anything to say?”

Loki looked down, the endless torture of the spacecraft hanger flashing before his eyes. Of course, that was nothing to the torture that had followed, but he had not known that at the time.

“I did intend to trigger the alarms,” he confessed. Thor looked triumphant, but Loki kept talking.

“They would have sounded anyway when we took the Commodore. Triggering them early would hardly have made any difference. If we had been captured, perhaps I could have convinced the Grandmaster that I was your unwilling hostage rather than your willing conspirator, and influenced him to send you back to the arena rather than to execution.” 

Loki shriveled back as he revealed his self-serving back-up plan. Their whole endeavor had been gossamer thin, and it had ever been his habit to plot in layers, to weave in contingencies and alternatives. This one had been his downfall.

Thor stared at him, his pacing forgotten, his mouth hanging open. “Then why...why did you tell me you had decided to turn me over for the reward?”

Loki clenched his fists in his blanket, his stomach churning at the memories. “I could not pass up the chance to tweak your mane a little,” he confessed, his own idiocy and hubris readily apparent. He was going to vomit again if he had to discuss this any longer. He had been unbelievably reckless and he had paid the price for it. He had underestimated Thor and overplayed his own hand. Thor was his superior, he was stronger, braver, and worthier. Thor had friends and allies, and Loki had nothing and no one. Loki’s place had always been at Thor’s left hand, and he had been too proud and arrogant to see it. Well, not anymore. He had no pride left, and so he spoke the words he knew he had to say to keep his place here on Midgard.

“I am sorry. I apologize, Thor. I should not have lied to you and disrespected you. You were right to - “ Loki had to pause and gulp down air, forcing himself to continue “ - you were right to punish me as you did.”

Thor did not know what to say to that. He had no reply at all for what felt like minutes as he stared at what was left of Loki trembling before him. Tears stung at Loki’s eyes. The habit of crying was another shameful facet of his new self, one that he could not stop. Something more seemed required of him, but he could not perceive what it was. Thor had punished him for his words, for his supposed betrayal. Loki's devious nature had undone him, and Thor had all too readily believed that he would sell him out, and so he had sold Loki out first. It was entirely Loki’s own fault, and for everything he had suffered, the blame could only be laid at his own door.

“Come with me to New Asgard.”

A new urgency infected Thor’s voice, something bubbling up that Loki did not understand. Surely, he had been punished enough for what he had done to his former brother? It was Stark’s turn to punish him now for what he had done to Midgard. Stark held his leash. He had bought him. He owned him, and if he did not like his slave's behavior he could turn Loki back over to the Grandmaster. Loki could not risk trying to deny Stark his rights.

“I would prefer to stay here, Thor.”

“But brother…”

“He said no, big guy.” Stark’s tone was friendly enough, but his words ended the conversation. They had all seen the recording. They had all seen the Grandmaster offer Stark his friendship and his listening ear. Loki belonged to Stark now, and there was no point resisting it.

Thor only stayed a few more minutes. He was frustrated and probably hoped to preserve his temper and his alliance with Stark by removing himself. Thor had wisdom, and Loki berated himself for never seeing it before. The alliance with Stark was more important than Loki was, and Thor was right to leave Loki behind.

With his former-brother's departure, Loki once more became unmoored. He sat on the couch, floating and disconnected from himself and from what was happening around him. It was as though Thor had taken what was left of Loki’s spirit with him when he left. Loki dissolved back into the air that he breathed. He became nothing.

If he had any willpower, Loki should have asked Stark for permission to prepare himself for what was to come, but he could not. Hopeless exhaustion pressed down on him like a wet fur, heavy and stifling. He only hoped he would hear it when Stark gave him the inevitable order to strip or kneel or bend over.

That was why Stark had bought him, after all, and why he had insisted that Loki stay with him instead of go with Thor. Loki clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms, the sensation numb and dull. Perhaps in the privacy of the penthouse, Stark would be gentle. Perhaps he would take Loki as he had done the day before, just the two of them, fast and efficient, Loki's body a serviceable depository for Stark's seed and nothing more.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Loki blinked and glanced around the penthouse. Stark had moved without Loki even noticing. He was over by the bar, talking into an earpiece and flicking through a transparent screen, ignoring Loki completely. Loki looked around again, this time seeking the glow of red eyes. He did not know if he would be ordered to submit to the legionnaires again. He would, of course, do as he was told, but the memory of metal hands clamped on his flesh made him shiver.

“Hey, you're back with me. What're you looking for? Thor's gone.”

Loki whipped his head around. Stark was looking at him over the screen he was using, his head cocked to the side.

Loki decided he may as well ask. He was numb enough not to care about the consequences of such insolence. “I was looking for your legionnaires, Sir. Will you have me...perform for you?”

Stark wrinkled his nose, an expression that Loki found hard to interpret. “No. That was a one off. They’re gone anyway. I gave them to En Dwi Gast.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s pretty pissed at me about that actually. They were useful clearing some of the damage around here.” Stark set his screen down and rubbed his eyes, more tired than ever. “OK, sorry, I guess I should have been paying attention to you…”

“No, Stark. I mean, Sir. It is quite alright. You do not need to pay me any attention at all! I am at your service.”

Stark returned to the couch and sat down again, his arm thrown over the back, facing Loki.

“Yeah, OK, I get it, but no. Listen, Loki, if I could get you a therapist I would. You clearly need one, but every single therapist on this planet either needs therapy themselves, or has a wait-list ten years long. So you’ve got me. The way I like to cope with stress is to work, so that’s what I’m doing right now because I just gave away a small army of tireless robots, and getting materials to make more is going to be interesting. I’m guessing you don’t have any magic powers?”

Loki shook his head and fingered the obedience disc. “I believe this is blocking my connection to Yggdrasil. If you…”

“I’m not taking it off.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Loki hung his head. The hope that had briefly surged through him drained away like the outgoing tide, replaced by rising guilt. Loki had not only cost his new owner a high price, but he was now causing him stress over the work that the legionnaires had performed.

“I can work, if you wish me to,” Loki offered, lost as to what else to do. “Tell me what to do and I will do it. I know my debt to you, and I will repay you in any way I can. Or if you have no use for me now, please point me to whichever corner you wish to confine me to. I will gladly await your pleasure.”

Stark sighed and ran both hands through his hair. His shoulders dropped and for a moment Loki caught a glimpse of the deep tiredness behind the man's eyes. A second later, it was gone. Stark stood again, heading back to the bar and his screens.

“The couch is fine. Take a nap or something, I need to...I don’t know…I need to gather my thoughts. Probably at least until En Dwi Gast fixes things, we should…you know. Act like he expects."

Loki bowed his head. “Yes, Sir,” he murmured. Stark was right, of course. Loki would remain here, waiting. When Stark had use for him, he would perform his duties without complaint.


	34. Scanned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note for potentially squicky/gross descriptions of what's going on in Loki's intestines. It's a short section starting with "He closed his eyes until the room was steady again" and ending with "You OK?". There's also blood-drawing with a needle mentioned (not graphic) towards the end of the chapter. 
> 
> Erm...enjoy, I guess?

Loki did not expect to be able to sleep, but Stark had told him to and so he dutifully lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket up over his mouth. A moment later, he pulled it up the rest of the way over his head. It was large enough to cover him from head to toe, and in the warm darkness underneath, Loki could pretend that he was safe.

Loki closed his eyes and tried to empty his thoughts. Usually when he was allowed to rest, he was utterly drained and exhausted, and did not so much fall asleep as pass out. Now, he had slept all night and it was only midday the next day. Stark was allowing him to sleep to keep him out of the way, Loki knew that, but still the unexpected kindness of it touched his heart. Stark could easily have given him menial work to do to keep him occupied. He did not have to let him rest here, in his own living room, on his own soft furniture.

Stark was moving about the penthouse - the soft thud of his shoes, the tap of fingers on his screen, the clink of ice and the low hum of conversation all told his whereabouts. Loki let his senses follow him, the sounds soothing and comforting. Stark was there, and so Loki did not have to worry. He was following instructions and when it was time for him to perform, Stark would tell him what to do.

***

It was dark when Loki awoke, confused and disoriented. Something was wrapped tightly around his body and he could not catch his breath. For one horrifying moment, Loki thought he was back in the suffocating darkness of the box. He wrenched the blanket off himself and threw it away, flailing wildly at the strangling thing, a scream already on his lips.

_“It’s OK, it’s OK. Take it easy.”_

The voice reached through Loki’s formless, floundering nightmare and pulled him to the surface.

“Stark!” Loki gasped the name out without thinking. He tumbled off the couch and fell onto the rug, crawling to where Stark sat on the low table. Acting on desperate instinct, Loki hugged his knees, grabbing him as though he were drowning and Stark his only hope of rescue.

_He is your only hope. He is your only hope._

“Stark. Please, please….” Loki did not even know what he was begging for, only that Stark was _here_ and he had saved him and he was the only thing standing between Loki and a vast, unfriendly universe. He did not know what to beg for, but he begged anyway.

An uncertain hand furled gently through his hair.

“Bad dream? Yeah, I get it. I mean, I get them too sometimes. A lot of the time. But you’re awake now. All done.”

There was a pause.

“You can let go of me now, Loki.”

It took a moment for Loki to remember how to unlock his muscles, but he did it and shuffled back until he was pressed up against the couch. Stark was sitting on the low table before him, his ever-present screen in his hands. A small device about the size of his fist sat next to him on the table. Stark touched the device and it glowed with blue light.

“Lie down on the couch, I want to show you something.”

Loki paused, uncertain. “Shall I undress, Sir?”

Stark scowled. “No, just lie down.”

Loki scrambled back onto the couch and laid down on his back. Whatever Stark wanted with him, he would find out soon enough, but if he was not required to strip it was most likely not yet time for him to serve his purpose. He would rather do it and then at least he would know what Stark wanted from him, but it was not to be.

When he was settled on his back, Stark tapped at his screen. The light coming from the screen and the device where the only source of illumination in the dim room. The sky had darkened while Loki slept, thick clouds covering the sun, and the air was heavy with the portent of rain.

“OK, so as you know, I have a million unsolvable problems to deal with and it’s stressing me out.”

“Yes, Sir,” Loki said. He was unsure where this was leading, but sure that it was nowhere good. He was a burden on his new owner and he did not know how to lessen that weight. He shifted on his back, his hands creeping up to protect his belly. Stark had no visible weapon to hand, unless the device on the table was one, but that didn’t mean anything. Stark could give Loki a beating with his own fists and feet if he wanted to and Loki would have no choice but to take it.

Stark ignored his defensive movement. “Well, _this_ might be a problem I can do something about.” He flicked his fingers and the image from his screen swooped into the air, lighting the penthouse with a bright blue glow. Loki squinted at it, unsure what he was looking, at until Stark stood and turned the image with his hands.

It was Loki himself, his own body reclined in the same pose as he was now, drawn in an outline of light.

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly, trying to suppress his growing apprehension. Was Stark implying that he was a problem? That his body was unsatisfactory and would need further modification for Stark’s purposes?

“Put your hands down.”

Loki forced his hands down to his side, leaving his belly unprotected. The image mirrored his movement, and then with another twitch of his fingers Stark lit up the image, the line of light emanating from the scanner scribing the interior of Loki’s body, his bones and organs, and, to Loki’s sickened fascination, the clusters of eggs that filled him.

He closed his eyes until the room was steady again, and then stared up at the evidence of what had been done to him. His guts were bulging, thick and fat with the crogall eggs, his intestines infested with them, packed in as tightly as they could fit, as high up inside him as the flexible crogall ovipositors had been able to reach. Loki covered his mouth, his stomach heaving.

Stark enlarged the image, focusing on one group of eggs. Despite his nausea, Loki could not look away from the sight. The eggs had partially absorbed into the wall of his intestine, nestled into place securely like insects in a burrow.

“You OK?”

Loki nodded, swallowing hard. Stark had some use for him, some motive in showing him this. It would not be acceptable for him to run to the bathroom to vomit.

“I think they’re releasing some kind of chemical to make this happen. They're stimulating the growth of the host site to protect themselves. If we isolate the chemical and block it, the effect should naturally reverse, and these bad-boys will pop out without any trouble.”

Loki sat up, sending the image askew, a sudden, heady hope pounding in his chest. “You would do that?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, caught in his constricted throat. “You would do that for me? You would help me?”

Stark vanished the image, his expression controlled. “I don’t particularly want dozens of little aliens hatching in my tower, or your alien baby-daddy showing up on my planet.”

“Daddies,” Loki said before he could stop himself. His head was still reeling from the knowledge that Stark perhaps had a way to rid him of the parasites that lived inside him. At Stark’s raised eyebrows, Loki forced himself to explain.“There was not just one. I do not know how many. They took their turns in pairs and...and…”

“It’s OK.” Stark scooted over and sat next to Loki on the couch, a steadying hand on his arm. For the first time, Loki saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made light of it. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I guess I know a bit more now about what’s happened to you since we last met. Not just the crogall. En Dwi Gast is a pretty fucked up guy. ”

Loki sniffed and wiped his eyes. Stark had no reason to feel sorry for a wretch like him. Half of Midgard's people had been killed and Stark had been unable to help them. Loki’s complaints were meaningless in comparison to four billions lives lost. He did not want to make Stark angry, and risk him changing his mind about helping him, so he did not say anything at all.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them lost in their own thoughts, until Stark roused himself.

“Alright, well it would be good to actually fix something for once. I’ll need some of your blood and we can start running tests.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Stark took his blood without ceremony. He already had the equipment ready in a small case, and his hands were sure and steady.

“Uru-tipped needle,” he murmured as he carefully pierced the skin of Loki’s inner elbow. “Thor gave the metal to me, I’ve been helping New Asgard get up and running.”

Loki watched his red blood run through the plastic tube and into the bottle Stark held. “Uru is incredibly rare.” He was sure Stark was aware, but he could not help but tell him. The fragment of his old life lodged in his tongue like a splinter until he spoke it. “It is only found on Nidavellir, and the effort of mining and refining it is incalculable.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Stark slipped the priceless needle out of Loki’s arm and put it in a sealed compartment marked ‘autoclave’. He stood, the case with the needle and Loki’s blood under his arm.

“I’m going to start the tests running. Why don’t you...well, it’s getting late and...”

Loki understood at once. He scrambled up from the couch, his chest pounding with an emotion that he would have called excitement, if excitement had come with such a thick black shadow. He bowed, his hands clasped, his fingers twisted together. “Of course, Sir. I will shower and...where would you like me to await you?”

Stark ran his hand through his hair, leaving his head in tousled disarray. “It’s just until he fixes things,” he said, as though he had any need to explain himself to Loki, as though he could not do as he pleased with him - body, mind and spirit. “Wait for me back here,” he added, when it became clear that Loki had no response for him.

Loki bowed again. He said, “Yes, Sir,” and held that humble position until the elevator doors closed behind Stark. He straightened up, unclenched his hands and examined the deep half-moons scored into his palms. Loki did not allow himself to feel anything. He would not attempt to stop Stark from claiming his rights. He had no power to do so, and he had no standing to protest. Stark was _helping_ him. He was going to get the eggs out of him, and for that, if nothing else, Loki owed him his devoted service.

The clouds outside finally broke into driving rain, and Loki went to the bathroom to shower and prepare himself.


	35. Couch

If Loki had had any doubts about Stark’s intentions, they were dispelled when he saw what he had left for him in the bathroom - a change of clothes and a tube of lubricant. Loki stared at the tube for an endless moment, reality forcing its way into his clouded mind.

He knew what he was for. He _knew_ what Stark was going to do with him, but still, the sight stripped away his protective haze and forced him to confront it head on - Stark was going to fuck him in the ass. Again. And then again. He was going to keep doing it until the Midgardian people were returned to life and Thanos’ work was undone.

Loki could not tear his eyes away. His head starting to ache as connections formed in his mind, conclusions weaving together using only the limited information that he had.

Loki had aided Thanos, and Stark knew it. Now, Loki would be Stark’s plaything until the Mad Titan’s work was undone. That was fitting, in its way. This was not even a true punishment. Stark was not going to be needlessly cruel about it - the lubricant was evidence of that.

Four billion lives were at stake. Stark had little choice in what he did - almost as little as Loki did.

The shower was too hot, then too cold. The water hammered against Loki’s pounding head. The smell of the soap made his headache worse. Everything was overwhelming, and Loki’s senses were on overdrive. He did not take long in the shower. He was clean and fit for purpose, that was all that mattered.

His skin was hypersensitive as he knelt on the cold tile floor of the bathroom and squeezed cool gel onto his trembling fingers.

Stark was helping him, Loki told himself. He was helping him get rid of the eggs, helping him escape the Grandmaster, helping him pay his debts to this realm. Loki owed him this. Stark wanted him prepared and ready to serve, and Loki _wanted_ to comply.

He reached behind himself and gently dabbed the gel where it was needed. He had done this before, many times, before his life had disintegrated around him. He knew how to prepare himself to be taken but he just could not make his fingers move to do it. His body was cold and shivering, not hot with excited anticipation as it had been in those long-ago times. He was a clumsy lump of flesh and he could not control himself.

Shaking with sudden chill, he grabbed the clean shirt Stark had left for him and pulled it over his head. The cloth was soft but it rasped on his nerve-endings like sandpaper. The noise he could hear suddenly swam into focus, and he realized that he was crying, sobbing helplessly as he knelt on the hard floor, half-naked. He was trying. He was _trying_ , but he was failing and Stark would be angry with him. Stark did not want to prepare Loki himself as he had done the first time. He wanted Loki ready for use, and if Loki wanted the mercy of the lubricant gel then he would have to use it himself. If he did not, Stark would just take him as he was. It would make little difference to him, after all.

_Pull yourself together and stop crying. You're pathetic. You're absurd. Stop crying and do what must be done._

Loki grabbed the shirt he had worn that day, balled it up and stuffed it into his mouth. That was better. He should not be crying over such a simple task and if he could not stop he would _make_ himself stop. He bit into the cloth, his chest tight as he was forced to breathe through his nose, forced to limit his oxygen and therefore forced to calm down.

He started again, squeezing more lubricant onto his fingers. This time was better. He bit down on the cloth in his mouth, and carefully directed his fingers to ease inside and spread the cool gel where it was needed. Loki would not be a disappointment to Stark. He would _not_. If he just wanted Loki to bend over and take it, he would do that. If Stark wanted him to take a more active role, to ride him or to eagerly return his thrusts, Loki would do that too. He wondered if there was a way he could keep the comforting gag in his mouth, but he dismissed the idea. Stark would gag him himself if he wanted him silenced - Loki’s preference was irrelevant.

Loki could not quite reclaim his hazy, floating state of mind, but he was calmer as he washed his face and put the clean pants on. These fit better; the waistband was stretchy and the shirt was bigger. The clothes were soft, as though for sleeping, and even though they still tickled against Loki’s skin, the hypersensitivity was fading. Loki could at least gather his thoughts without his every neuron firing at once.

He was ready.

The penthouse was empty when he emerged, and Loki drifted back to the couch where he had been instructed to wait. On the way, he glanced out of the window, looking out over the nighttime city. The first time he had been in this city the lights had been almost dazzling at night, but now less than one in ten of the buildings was lit. Vast swatches of blackness stretched to the horizon, broken only by the flickering glow of fires. Loki looked away. Stark’s city was suffering, but there was nothing Loki could do to help, not without his magic and without Stark ordering him to act.

The elevator opened as he walked to the couch, Stark silhouetted against the light. He had a half-full glass bottle in his hand, which he set down on the kitchen counter as he passed.

“Hey there. Tests are running, we should have some results tomorrow. You ready?”

Loki nodded, stuck in place, the sight of Stark bringing reality crashing back.

“Yes, Sir.”

He realized should have brought the lubricant with him, in case Stark was dissatisfied with the job he had done. It was too late now. Loki had done what he had done and that would have to be good enough. He bit his lip and wished again for the comfort of the balled-up shirt in his mouth. Something to bite on, to keep him grounded and in the moment. He could not think of a way to ask Stark for it, though. He allowed himself to be walked over to the couch and gently but firmly put on his knees. One hand between his shoulder-blades guided him forward until he was positioned as Stark liked - kneeling in front of the couch, bent over, his knees spread, his head buried in his folded arms. He breathed. This was good. Stark would use him as he wanted and all Loki had to do was stay in this pose.

All he had to do was let it happen.

“OK?”

Stark slipped his fingers under the waistband of Loki’s pants and bared his ass, just as so many others had done. Loki nodded, his chest tight. He could not look up. He could not speak. He bit on the heel of his hand, but he could feel his own teeth and the heavy piercing in his tongue. It was not the same as the shirt filling his mouth, the comfort of it was not there. His head swam and he gasped for breath. Next time he would ask to be gagged. He needed it. He would beg if he had to.

Stark did not waste time. He took what he wanted and he did not demand Loki’s participation, only his submission, which was all that Loki was able to give. Loki had suffered much, much worse, and he could not understand why tears came to him so easily now. He was not being hurt. Stark was gentle with him, easing inside slowly, giving him time to adjust before he started to take his pleasure.

“OK?” Stark pulled out when he was done, breathless.

"Yes, Sir." Loki tried to keep his voice even but he knew he failed. Stark put his hand on his shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze before he helped him pull his pants back up.

"It's not forever, Loki. Just until En Dwi Gast does what he said he'd do."

"Yes, Sir."

Loki could not think of anything else to say. He looked down at the couch cushions in the dim light, stroking his fingertips over the tightly woven cloth, the repetitive motion soothing him.

Stark stood behind him and adjusted his own clothes, huffing out a long breath.

"Well, you can take the couch again tonight. No offense, but there are no cameras in the bedrooms and, well, to be honest I want Friday to keep an eye on you. Not to mention that we've still got… something…to deal with in the guest room. So get comfortable here."

Stark did not linger. He gave Loki his blanket and another bottle of the drink he had decided to feed him, and then headed to his own bed.

Loki drank listlessly, sitting on the couch in the dark. He ached a little where Stark had pierced him, but it was already fading. Such a thing should not have affected him at all, but Loki found his hand shaking as he set the empty bottle back on the table. His head was empty. Thoughts passed through him and faded into hollow blankness. All he could do was lie down on the couch, stuff the corner of the blanket into his mouth, and try to sleep.


	36. Council

Loki awoke to the low hiss of voices in the kitchen area of the penthouse. He did not mean to listen, but he couldn’t help hearing the words that floated on the air.

“...do not even allow him his own bed!”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Thor! The couch is a very reasonable compromise until I get cameras set up. There’s a cozy holding facility down under the parking garage if you prefer!”

“He is a prince of Asgard and you are treating him as your - ”

Loki sat up, sudden passion burning through his veins at the sound of his former brother’s arrogant tone. How dare he lecture the man who had saved him! Loki wrenched the encompassing blanket off his head.

“Asgard is destroyed,” he said, his voice flat, meeting his former brother’s surprised eyes without hesitation. “So that makes me a prince of _nothing_ . You as well, Thor. You are king of _nothing_ , Allfather of _nothing_.”

“Asgard is not a place!” Thor shot back, his cheek reddening, his defense of Loki already forgotten. “Asgard is our people and as long as we are together, Asgard will survive!”

“Well then, congratulations Thor, I was wrong! You are king of a ragged band of refugees. But I am not one of them. I am no prince and I am no Asgardian. You left me behind!”

Tears stung his eyes, fury and despair combined. He stood, staggering as his heavy belly unbalanced him.

Thor stepped back, uncertain in the face of Loki’s anger, so different to his deferential apology of the day before. Even Stark looked at him curiously, wondering why the dramatic change from his helpless tears of last night. Loki himself scarcely knew what had come over him. It was as though he were torn in two. His not-brother activated some part of his old self in a way that nothing else did. Fire filled him, and suddenly he had a gut full of words that demanded to be spoken.

“You left me on Sakaar! I was helpless! Why? Why? Why?”

Thor held up his hands, “Loki, I thought you had betrayed….”

Loki brushed that aside, his voice rising. “Yes, yes, you thought I had betrayed you. Even if I _had_ , why did you abandon me to that monster. You should have killed me first! Did I deserve to become his plaything? Look at me Thor! Look at what he has done to me.”

Loki glared at his former brother. He was well aware that his stuffed belly, white eyes and tattooed face told his tale more eloquently that he could with mere words.

Thor looked away. “I did not know.”

Loki did not let him off so easily. “Did you care? Did the Valkyrie not mention what he was? Did you even wonder what had become of me? Did you think of me at all?”

“What should I have done, Loki?”

Loki’s heart broke at the simplicity of it. The choice that Thor could have made to avoid his long period of suffering, that would have prevented him from becoming the pathetic creature that he now was.

“You could have taken me with you, Thor. You had already defeated me. Could you not have shown me mercy?”

“I...I did not…” Thor struggled with his word for a few moments, and then pulled himself together. “I could have taken you,” he admitted. “I could have. Perhaps I should have.”

Loki waited, and Stark waited as well, both of them looking at Thor, waiting for him to say what would come naturally after that admission - an apology. It did not come, of course. Loki had not expected it would. Thor was never able to admit wrongdoing, not in any real way. He would mumble a generic ‘sorry’ when he felt he had to, but he never specified what he was apologizing for, and never once changed his behavior to avoid making the same mistakes again. Loki was not surprised. Thor had lectured Loki on change, as he lay on the floor of the hanger, fire burning through his veins, but he was incapable of it himself.

“Why are you here?” Loki sighed and sat back on the couch. Stark had not yet given him permission to leave that spot, and he had no desire to be ordered back to his assigned location in front of his not-brother.

“I came to see how you are. To ensure you are well looked after.”

Behind Thor’s back, Stark made the finger-curling gesture in the air and mouthed the words ‘well looked after’.

Loki suppressed a tired smile. He and Stark knew very well how ‘well looked after’ he was, but Loki was not going to discuss that with Thor. Loki had made his choice and it was the correct one. He would take Stark’s uses over Thor’s. At least Stark was honest about what he was doing, and why. In the cold light of day, bending over for Stark seemed nothing but a mild inconvenience. It was a small price to pay, for all that he had gained in return.

“I am well. You do not need to concern yourself,” he said shortly. The first day on Midgard, Stark had warned Loki not to discuss with Thor what happened between them, and Loki had no intention of disobeying him. Thor would either do nothing about it anyway, or he would act as though his own honor were sullied and react with violence. Neither one of those would be helpful, and the latter would put Loki at more risk than if he did nothing.

Thor did his best impression of a kicked puppy, which Loki ignored. Stark strolled over and handed Loki a bottle to drink, sitting down opposite the couch.

“Come and sit down, man. Drink your coffee.” It was a clear attempt to break the tension of the room, and to his credit, Thor did it, joining them in the comfortable seating area.

For a while, Thor and Stark talked about the state of the world, about work they were doing to keep their people fed and safe. Instability was everywhere. Some Midgardian states had cut off all outside contact, while some had taken the opportunity chaos offered to attack their neighbors. Food supplies were running low, and water was contaminated with chemicals from untended factories. Even in such a short conversation, Loki could see how everything was spinning out of control at once. The Avengers, such as they were, could hardly even decide what problems to focus on first. Stark was trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Thor was rapidly becoming vague and overwhelmed.

“You cannot solve all these problems, Stark. You have to let your people help themselves.”

They both turned to look at him, and Loki carefully set the empty bottle down on the table, trying to force his hand not the shake. He had spoken out of turn.

“Pardon me,” he said, swallowing back his nerves. For a moment he had thought himself at a council meeting, a place where he might speak freely and share ideas. He had forgotten that he was a slave listening to the conversation of his betters. His anger at Thor had made him reckless.

“What do you mean?” Stark said, brushing off Loki’s apology.

Loki folded his hands together, wishing he still had the blanket on his lap. He tried to phrase his words respectfully. “Odin was an emperor,” he began. “His empire covered many worlds, within the nine-realms and beyond. There was always trouble. War, famine, disease, rebellion. He did not deal with those things himself, just as you should not. He had generals, governors, diplomats, and he armed them not just with resources but with the power of his name. You have money, technology, factories, warehouses, vehicles, communications, but you also have your name, do you not?”

Loki paused for Stark’s slow nod.

“You are not one man, trying to wrestle each problem one by one. You are a prince of Midgard and you must act as one. That factory spilling chemicals into the water of the Hudson river is not your concern. Measure the purity of the water in every city of this realm and publish the results under your name. People can either move to safer locations or they can work to clean up their own cities themselves. Do it every month and reward those who improve. Do the same with food supplies, with medicine. There are few who can reach around the world as you can, Stark. If you focus on each detail you will not be able to help. That is what I mean. Midgardians are clever and resourceful. Or at least, the ones I met the last time I was here were, so much as I can remember.”

Stark leaned back in his chair, staring at Loki with a thoughtful expression. “Romanov said the same thing,” he eventually said. “She said the best thing we can do for Earth is to open up our communications channels and let people help each other. She was going to try and use the compound as a base of operations, and start some kind of network using Stark satellites.”

Loki nodded. “She is wise.”

“What do you think, Thor?”

Thor shrugged. “Odin overindulged in discussion, when swift and decisive action would have had better results.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Did you listen at all to those discussions? Yes, of course, Odin could have used the power of Asgard and the Odinforce to crush any who opposed him. But what then? That is what he did on Jotunheim thousands of years ago and still the realms are not healed from it. If you want to rule over smoking ruins, then by all means make swift and decision action your first resort, instead of your last.”

Stark hummed and sipped his drink, his loose body language calming the energy of the room. He had done the same the first day Loki arrived, communicating without speaking. He was good at it, and Thor waited for him to consider their words before speaking.

“We don’t have the capability for swift and decisive action all over the world at once. It would be a game of whack-a-mole with no winners. We would have to pick intervention sites very carefully, if we wanted to do that at all, and without strong intelligence we risk making things worse. Loki’s right. We have to set things up to maximize the amount people can help themselves. Basics first - food, water, shelter, medicine. And if...when...everyone comes back, it’s going to be chaos all over again. We have to somehow get people ready for that without raising any false hopes.”

Stark scrubbed his hands through his hair, dark circles visible under his eyes even though it was only morning.

“Even that is a lot to do. Friday, ask Romanov to come over for dinner. Or sooner if she can. I know she’s busy. What’s Steve up to?”

“Captain Rogers is with Agent Romanov at the compound, boss.”

“Great, invite them both. You’re invited too, Thor.”

Thor shifted in his seat, not liking how the conversation had gone, but not able to argue the conclusion Stark had reached. Loki kept his mouth shut. Stark could invite whatever guests he wanted. Loki did not have the right to either object or to encourage them.

In the end, Thor declined and left. He had to attend to the people of New Asgard, and Loki could tell he would feel misplaced at the table that evening. Loki could not say he was sorry to see him go, but once he was alone with Stark he felt his energy drain away. Whatever passion Thor had brought to his blood was replaced by the reality of his situation.

“I apologize if I spoke out of turn, Sir.” Loki clasped his knees and did not look up at Stark, unsure how he would act now they were alone.

Stark seemed oblivious to Loki's anxiety. He took the empty bottle and strolled back to the kitchen. “You’re fine, don't worry about it. Hey, do you only want this stuff or can you eat regular food too?”

“I do not know,” Loki replied. “Once I was…impregnated...the crogall only gave me milk, and so did the Grandmaster.”

“Hmm. Well, with where the eggs are I can imagine you’d have problems with solid food. Speaking of which.” Stark picked up a small bottle from the kitchen counter. It was about half full with clear liquid. It looked like water, but Loki knew at once that it was something far more precious.

“Is that...” he said, this throat closing up with sudden hope.

Stark nodded. “Yeah, if the analysis is right for Asgardian blood, then I was right, you're swimming in crazy hormones right now. I picked the most likely suspects to block. If you want to try it, you can expect some wild mood swings. I mean... _wilder_.”

Loki looked down. He was well aware that his behavior had been erratic. His reaction last night, sobbing on the floor of the bathroom as he prepared himself, seemed incomprehensible to him now. It was something of a relief to know that perhaps it was not entirely due to his own weakness. Some of it may be due to the cursed eggs leaching chemicals into his blood.

“I do want to try it,” Loki said, finally realizing that Stark was waiting for his response. “Please. I do not want to have these things inside me any longer! If you can help me rid myself of them I will pay any price you ask."

Stark took out his medical case with the uru needle. "Don't worry about that. Let's give this a try, shall we?"

Loki held his arm out and allowed Stark to inject him with the liquid. He pressed his fingers on the spot as Stark put the needle and the empty bottle away. He tried not to worry, as Stark had told him, about the price. Whatever Stark demanded for this medicine, it would not be anything he could not have had from Loki anyway.

Loki could not refuse him, and they both knew it.


	37. Lemon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyeone! I went back and titled all the chapters, this is getting too long to just have numbers. I like to be able to find my way around, but I never expected this story to grow the way it has! Shows how little self-awareness I have, I guess! Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Loki expected to be ordered to wear suitable attire and to serve at dinner as he had done before, but Stark didn’t say anything about it as the day progressed. Instead, he had Loki sit on the couch with the body scanning device in front of him, and wait.

It should have been tedious, but after a few minutes of staring out the window at the grey Midgardian sky, Loki did not notice the time passing at all. He was where he was supposed to be and doing what he was supposed to be doing. He had been fed and he was dressed. He was not restrained, he was not in pain, and no one was making use of him. In the past Loki would have called it boring, but now it was so blissful that he could weep with gratitude.

The only mar on his dreamlike state was Stark, who had decided to spend the time drilling and hammering in one of the rooms behind him. He was out of direct sight, and Loki couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, so he tried to tune it out.

Light rain splattered on the windows, the drops merging and running into each other. Loki’s eyes followed the drops down the pane until they vanished, then started again at the top.

“Here.”

A hand appeared over his shoulder, holding a steaming cup. Instinctively, Loki took it. The smell of sugar rose, making his mouth water and his stomach growl.

“Hot chocolate. It’s a good drink for rainy days.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Stark was gone again before Loki could fully understand what had happened. It felt as though Stark had appeared out of thin air like an apparition, but the drink in Loki’s hand was real enough.

He took a cautious sip.

It was sweet, full of sugar and cream, not something Loki would have enjoyed at all in his old life. But his former preferences were gone now, erased along with so many other things about him.

It had been so long since Loki had had anything to eat or drink that was not bland nutrient paste, leftover scraps, or milk. His hand shook as he lifted the cup and drank the hot, sweet drink. When it was gone, he even inverted the cup to get the last drops.

Stark occasionally came by to check the readings on the scanner, but so far he did not observe any changes in Loki’s condition. Loki felt a mild headache coming on, and he felt a little warm, but he did not want to bother Stark with such minor things. It was no doubt due to the sugar in his drink, and his body's reaction after not having hot food for so long.

Loki wondered vaguely if there was anything he ought to be doing, but he supposed if there was, Stark would tell him. The Grandmaster had never been interested in having Loki perform menial tasks - he had kept him busy in other ways. The few respites Loki had had from constant use were when he had been humiliated instead. The modification chamber, when he had been forced to stand on display, pierced by an unforgiving dildo. The arena, where he had been the prize laying on an altar, waiting to be claimed.

Loki decided not to speak up, in case Stark gave him something of that nature to focus on instead. In any case, having nothing to do, but also having nothing done to him, was a balm he sorely needed.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

The elevator dinged as the sky darkened towards evening, and Stark strolled over to Loki’s couch with a large paper bag.

“Here, got you some new clothes. You can change out of those pajamas before dinner. I got the cameras set up in your room, so you can go ahead and get settled in if you like.”

Stark pointed down the hallway, and Loki obediently took the bag and stood up with what he hoped was an appropriately grateful bow. In truth, his stomach was a little anxious at the thought of what clothing Stark had procured for him. After the red leather and black mesh he had been forced to wear for the party two nights ago, he was unsure what he would wear. As he walked to his new room, he took a nervous peek into the bag and was relieved to see only soft cotton in various muted colors. There was no leather, no mesh, no lace or silk or satin. Perhaps his attire to serve at the meal tonight would not be anything deliberately humiliating.

He was turning the handle on the door when he heard Stark's yell.

“Wrong door! Loki no!”

But it was too late.

The door fell open like a trap opening under his feet, and a dagger twisted in his stomach as Loki saw what was inside.

He fell back. Scrambled back. Launched himself back like an arrow from a bow, slamming his shoulders against the opposite wall and trying to claw his way through it. The door before him yawned like the maw of a monster, waiting to devour him whole. He could not tear his terrified eyes away from what awaited him.

The box. It was the box, it was the box, _the box_ , the box that he had been buried in, the box that he had been imprisoned in, the box that had stripped away his every thought, his movement, his voice, his body, his mind and turned him into nothing, into _nithing,_ undone and unmade.

It was here. Stark had it and was waiting for the moment to use it, to send Loki back into the belly of his nightmare. The room was a mirror image of the booth in the Sakaaran festival hall. It was hung with dark curtains broken by curves of gleaming chrome. A bulging mass of pipes and tubes hanging from the ceiling.

Stark must have installed it. The banging and drilling he had heard, that is what he had been doing. He was going to use it. Stark was going to put Loki in it, he going to do it, he was going to take everything away and turn him into two holes for use and nothing more. Loki’s lungs burned, but he could not breathe. His chest was a vice clamped around his heart, the hallway spun and the floor twisted under him.

_“Bite.”_

Something was shoved into Loki’s mouth and he bit it without conscious thought, the order going from his ears to his nerves as he did as he was told.

His mouth filled with sour, bitter juice. The harsh, acerbic taste on his tongue shorted out his spiraling panic. He was unable to focus on anything but the sharp, waxy peel and acidic juice in his mouth.

“Better? Biting a lemon is good for panic attacks. Works for me anyway. Sometimes. Still freaking out? Want another bite?”

Loki grabbed the lemon from Stark’s hand and shoved it back in his mouth, biting down on it as hard as he could. Acid washed his mouth, the sharp scent of citrus filled his nose, bright and intense, pushing out all other thoughts. He shuddered, gasping for breath, surfacing from the wild whirlpool of his panic.

The nightmare door was closed and Stark was sitting on the floor beside him, his face as open and compassionate as Loki had ever seen it.

“It’s OK. Just breathe. Deep breaths, in and out. Don’t think about anything. Keep your mind blank. Listen to my voice and breathe with me. There you go, nice and easy. That’s good, that’s good. Can you get up? Let’s get back to the couch, nice and steady, you can do it.”

Stark kept up the monologue as he maneuvered Loki up from the floor and back to the island of the couch. He supported Loki's shaking, unbalanced steps, until they both fell back on the couch. Loki sprawled out full length, his head in Stark’s lap, holding on to the mortal as tightly as he could.

If he let go, the tide would drag him back down into the dark freezing depths, back to the room with the box. He would drown and die there, Loki knew it without a doubt. The box would be his death. Even if his body survived, his mind would not.

He mumbled into Stark’s belly, his eyes screwed shut, his arms locked around Stark’s waist. “Please, please, I beg you. I will do whatever you command. I will accept any punishment. I will refuse you nothing, I swear it. Whatever you desire, I will do. Everything I am is yours. Please, please, please, do not put me back in the box. Anything but that. Stark, I beg you."

Stark wrapped Loki in his arms, holding him just where he was, securing him in place. He leaned down and spoke directly into Loki’s ear, his voice low and intent.

“Loki, listen to me very carefully. I will never put you in that thing. Never. OK? It’s not going to happen. I’ll never threaten you with it, I’ll never hint at it, I’ll never do it. Understand?”

Loki heard the words, but they were snatched away by the dark whirlpool of his terrified brain.

“What must I do?” Loki asked. His voice was thick with tears and panic and he could not lift his head. He was desperate to know how he could avoid the fate that awaited him. “Stark, please, tell me what I must do and I will do it. I am available to you for any manner of service you may desire. I will…”

“Hey, no. No. Nothing like that. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to earn it. I’m not going to do that to you. En Dwi Gast left it there and I can’t remove the fucking thing! It’s built into the floor and the ceiling and hooked up the tower services. I tried to disconnect it but it just reconnects itself as soon as I look away.”

Stark sighed and leaned back on the couch, seeming to resign himself to Loki’s whimpering death-grip and trying to get comfortable. He wiggled back and put his feet up on the low table, letting one hand rest on Loki’s shoulder and the other combing through his hair.

“Listen Loki, I know you have no reason to trust me. I haven’t exactly been treating you with kid-gloves, but you can believe me on this. I”m not going to use that thing on you. I know, I did bad things to you. The legionnaires the other night, and me as well. I've done things to you, but I’m not that bad. Right?”

Loki shook his head at once. He knew what was required of him, he knew how precarious his situation here was. Of course Stark was not as bad as his former owner, there was no doubt about it. Stark was Loki’s savior, and what little he demanded of him was no price at all compared to the horrors he had endured with The Grandmaster.

"OK, good. Why don't we just wait here for the others to arrive. Take a break. How about that?"

Loki nodded, already unfocused. He was losing his grip on where he was and what he was doing. Stark was warm, and his hand in Loki's hair was soothing, slowly stroking through the long strands and letting them run through his fingers, over and over again. Loki breathed, in and out, in time with the stroking hand, and let himself drift.


	38. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends *hugs everyone who wants a hug*
> 
> RBG - may her memory be a blessing
> 
> [Register to vote in the US](https://www.usa.gov/register-to-vote)

The smell of food brought Loki back. He opened his eyes and realized to his utter horror that he had fallen asleep with his head on Stark’s thigh, his face burrowed into Stark's belly. He would have jerked upright and begged forgiveness at once, but he realized just in time that Stark was eating, and the hand that was holding his food was resting on Loki’s head. If Loki moved, Stark would spill his food, and that would not lead to anything good. Loki opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a whisper, unheard over the conversation that flowed above his head.

Loki did not want to listen in to discussions that were not meant for him, but he had little choice. He could not see Romanov and Rogers, but he could hear them.

_“...he’s not your pet, Tony.”_

Stark finished what he was eating before he replied.

“I know that, Steve. Can you stop getting distracted? We’re not here to talk about Loki.”

“It’s kind of hard when he’s sleeping in your lap. What’s going on with you two?”

“Jesus! Give me a break, Steve. He’s traumatized, that’s what’s going on. En Dwi Gast left a little surprise here just to fuck him up a bit more, he found it, freaked out, and here we are.”

“Why don’t you let him go with Thor? He’s family, he can help him get back to normal.”

“He didn’t want to go with Thor. You think if he wanted to go I would stop him? You were there, Steve - Loki said he wanted to stay.”

Stark was trying to keep his tone neutral, but Loki could feel the muscles of his thigh tense up. Stark paused and let out a long breath before he continued in a more conciliatory tone.

“He’s had a very bad time. En Dwi Gast had him for years, and he squished his mind into a new shape just for funsies. Thor can’t get him back to normal. He just can’t! Normal’s long gone. I bought him, and that makes me responsible for him. He’s staying with me.”

“You bought him? You may have got him away from En Dwi Gast, but you don’t _own_ him, Tony. You can’t own a person.”

Rogers was getting angry now, and Loki tried to block the words from his ears. For a moment he wished Stark would use the control device and deafen him so he didn’t have to hear it. The conversation made his stomach churn in an unpleasant way, and the panic that Stark had been so good at chasing away started to ramp back up.

Rogers was wrong - you _could_ own a person. That knowledge had been carved into Loki's bones, impossible to forget. He had been broken and trained to ownership like a horse is broken to the saddle. He had not always been this way, but the time before was almost like a dream to him. It was someone else's life, and _this_ was his life now.

“He needs professional help.”

That was Romanov’s flat voice, breaking the rising tension and diverting Loki’s attention from his increasing discomfort.

“Yeah, we all do. If you know anyone Nat, I’m all ears.”

Neither of them had any answer to that. After a pause Stark leaned down to put his plate on the table, and Loki took the opportunity to stir and let his master know he was awake. Stark glanced down, tapping his fingers on Loki’s shoulder to acknowledge him. He didn’t speak to him though, just leaned back on the couch and continued his conversation.

Pleasant warmth radiated through Loki’s body as he realized Stark intended him to stay where he was. Idle fingers trailed through his hair and Loki bit his lip to stop himself from moaning out loud. The aftermath of his fear and panic was gone, and even his discomfort at Rogers’ words faded away, banished by Stark's touch. Loki closed his eyes again, blissful.

He must have done something right, for once, to be granted such treatment. Even if Stark was merely showing his allies how well trained and obedient Loki was, to have him lie in his lap like a dog, Loki did not care. He _was_ well trained and obedient. Any shame he would once have felt, was nothing compared to the implied offer of Stark’s comfort and protection.

He was already half in a daze when Rogers spoke up again.

“Tony, you really don’t want to encourage this.”

The fingers tightened in Loki’s hair for a moment, and Loki’s fingers gave an answering squeeze on Stark’s thigh. He absolutely _did_ want to encourage this. He had not been touched with gentle hands for so, so long, and his entire body was hungry for it. He craved it like the ocean craves the shore, the tide rising and pushing him toward Stark's careful hands.

Stark seemed to sense it too.

“You know, we can finish this conversation later. I'll call you tomorrow, same time. Have a good night you two.”

There was an almost imperceptible buzz, then silence as whatever Rogers had been about to say was cut off. When nothing else happened, no noise of guests standing and leaving, Loki cautiously opened his eyes. Stark was looking down at him, his brown eyes like deep pools in the dim light.

“Hey. How’re you doing?

Stark lifted his hands and Loki knew that was his cue to sit up. He did, not wanting to overstay his welcome and perhaps not be allowed such a reward again, but it was hard to leave the warmth of Stark's lap. Somehow, it felt that he had been away for a long time, that he had returned from a long journey. He had a feeling of familiar unfamiliarity, of the world being slightly different than he remembered.

They were alone, and Loki looked around, baffled. It was dark outside the penthouse, rain still spattering the broad windows. The world had shrunk down to only encompass the light and warmth of Stark’s home.

He tried to ask where Stark's guests were, but his throat was dry and he could not get the words out. Stark handed him a bottle of water, seeming to understand his confusion.

“Nat and Rogers? They’re up at the compound. They were visiting by hologram, I thought it might be better to keep things low-key for the evening, after, you know.”

Stark waved his hand, and a shimmering outline formed on the couch opposite. It was a frozen, three-dimensional image of Romanov and Rogers sitting together, a blue glow surrounding them.

Another wave and they vanished as though they had never been there, and of course, they _had_ never been there. They were a Midgardian illusion, generated by technology rather than seidr. Unconsciously, Loki’s fingers drifted to the disc embedded in his neck. He had once been able to cast illusions, even more lifelike and realistic than those. He put the thought away, opened the bottle of water Stark had given him and took a long drink.

Loki shivered as a cold breeze blew on the back of his neck. The penthouse was a comfortable temperature, but Loki knew at once where the cold air was coming from. The closed door behind him was no barrier to the Grandmaster's box. Its presence sneaked up behind him to caress his flesh like a malevolent spirit, and his only defence to it was Stark's promise.

_I will never put you in that thing. Never. I’ll never threaten you with it, I’ll never hint at it, I’ll never do it._

Loki shifted a little closer to Stark on the couch. He did not touch, as he had not been invited to touch, but he sat as close as he dared.

“You OK? You need another lemon?”

Loki licked his lips, remembering how to speak. The heavy ring in his tongue felt more awkward than he remembered, and he took another drink of water before he could reply.

"No, thank you, Sir. I am well. You are very kind to ask."

“OK great. It’s late and I have another shot for you before bedtime, but I want to scan you first. Stay there.”

Stark returned a moment later with the scanner, the medical case, and a bottle of the liquid he had been feeding Loki since he had arrived.

“You want this?” He held up the bottle. “Or if you want to try some real food, you can go ahead.” He pointed to the low table where various open boxes were strewn across the messy surface.

Loki looked at the cartons of food. It was some Midgardian fare he was unfamiliar with. Long noodles mixed with fragrant sauces, seafood mixed with rice and steamed vegetables. The smell was enticing, but Loki could not imagine sitting here and eating the same food Stark was eating. It was a dangerous choice, and he could not risk it. He reached for the bottle instead, being sure to give his grateful thanks before he opened it.

A frown crossed Stark’s face as he set up the scanner and the results began to appear on one of his ubiquitous screens. Loki’s throat tightened as he watched Stark flip through charts and data. He held the half-drunk bottle in his hand, waiting breathless for Stark to speak. Something was different in the scan results, he could tell that much, and Stark’s reaction bled over into Loki’s body, freezing him in place.

Stark hummed and reached over, resting the back of his hand on Loki’s forehead, a soft touch that Loki swayed towards, unable to help himself. Stark seemed not to notice.

“OK, well you have a bit of a temperature, but nothing too concerning. It's probably in the normal range for Asgardians, and everything else seems normal. Lie down, I want to scan your belly.”

Loki set the bottle down at once and stretched out on the couch. Just as it had done before, the scanner drew lines of light showing Loki his own body. First it drew his outline, then filled in his bones and organs. Loki was ready for it this time, and he was able to watch without the same visceral reaction as it scribed the rest of him in excruciating detail. It drew the rings in his tongue, ears, nipples and genitals, the implants in his jaw, and the cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. Then came the obedience disk, its filaments twisted into his nerves, and finally the crogall eggs, crammed inside him like larvae on rotting meat. Stark enlarged that part of the image, studying it carefully while Loki held his breath. He did not want to see the evidence of what he had become, but he was unable to look away.

If this treatment Stark had devised did not work, Loki could not even bear to think of the consequences. His body would be forced to bend to the crogall’s uses, and he would have to birth this brood of hatchlings. He had almost forgotten about the looming horror of it these past few days. There had been so much else for him to process that this had taken second place, an anxious burr in his mind, but not at the forefront.

A smile broke out on Stark’s face, lighting up his eyes.

"It’s working.”

His voice was almost a whisper, as though he did not want to spook the progress that he could see. He spun the image so that Loki could see it as well.

“Here, see?”

Loki saw it for himself. Instead of being almost fully buried in the hormonally thickened lining of his intestines, the eggs were starting to emerge. They were at different stages, some smaller ones were almost halfway out already. It was working.

Loki reached for Stark’s hand, his vision blurring at the sight. Sudden hope surged through his body like a tide. He did not know what to say, he only knew that Stark had done this for him. Stark had given him this gift of hope and Loki would do anything to keep it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking on the words. "Thank you. Thank you. Stark…” He tried to express his gratitude, but there were no words that could encompass what was in his heart. Words had little meaning anymore anyway. Only actions mattered, and Stark had taken action when Loki had needed it the most. He had done what was necessary to claim Loki for himself. He had saved him from the Grandmaster, and now he had done this for him too.

Loki had to prove himself through actions, just as Stark had done, not through meaningless words. Emotion surged through him, unnamable and unstoppable. Loki scrambled off the couch and fell to his knees. He kissed Stark's hand, his fingers, his knuckles, his palm. He was as careful and reverent as he could manage, fighting against the frantic pounding of his heart.

He was desperate to prove his devotion. It did not matter what anyone said. Rogers' claim that Stark could not own him was irrelevant. Stark’s actions showed that he _did_ own him. He owned Loki and he could change him as he liked and he could use him as he liked.

Loki wanted nothing more than to be worthy of it.


	39. Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured out how this is going to end! Well, I didn't figure it out, it came to me in a vision, which is how I like to write all my stories. Planning? I don't know her. I think the lesson we can all take away from this is "endless can't write short stories". Starting from "hey let's stuff Loki in a rape-crate" and here we are 85k words later and I know how to end it but we still have a journey ahead of us. *sigh*  
> Love you guys!

“OK, get up. That’s...um...you don’t have to do that, Loki.”

Stark gently extricated his hand from Loki's fervent grip and eased him up to sit on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, close, but out of Loki’s reach. The quiet intimacy of moments before was gone, and Stark’s warm smile was nowhere to be seen.

Loki sensed the change at once. He was unsure what he had done wrong, but that did not matter. He had transgressed and an apology was required of him. He lowered his head, hunched his shoulders, tucked his feet against the seat, trying to present as small a target as possible.

“I apologize if I have displeased you, Sir.”

Stark headed to the bar. He didn’t speak as he poured a glass of liquor, drained it and then poured another which he carried back to the couch.

“It’s not your fault,” he said when he was once again sitting at Loki’s side. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t need to apologize. I know you’ve had a rough time, and I honestly don’t know if what I’m doing is helping you or hurting you. Actually, scratch that, I am pretty sure that at least _some_ of what I'm doing is not what you need at all, but, um, that’s kind of going to keep happening at least until En Dwi Gast delivers on his promise. There’s too much at stake to risk it.”

Stark’s glass was empty again, and Loki wordlessly got up to refill it, bringing the bottle and pouring another serving.

“I don’t understand,” Loki confessed. He kept his voice small and quiet, matching Stark’s sudden melancholy mood. “You have helped me more than anyone else. I am honored to serve you in any way you desire. If my behavior is not appropriate please tell me and I will correct it. You have been so kind to me….” Loki's eyes filled with tears. The recollection of Stark’s fingers running through his hair sent him into a momentary haze, the sensory memory overwhelming. He swayed in his seat, leaning toward Stark like a plant leaning toward the sun.

Stark let out a long breath and drained his glass, setting it on the table with a soft click.

“You know what? It’s late, and we both need to get some rest. We can discuss this tomorrow.”

“Of course, Sir.” Loki still did not understand what was to be discussed. Hopefully the next day Stark would inform him what his error had been, and give him the opportunity to try again.

Stark picked up the medical kit and took out the syringe, already filled with Loki's third dose of the hormone-blocking medicine. Loki held out his arm and Stark injected him, the Uru needle virtually painless in his flesh.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Loki sat watching while Stark put his medical supplies away and closed the case. He knew he was not dismissed until he had performed his duties, but he was unsure if he should go to the bathroom and ready himself, or if he should wait to be told. He had misstepped already this evening, and he could not afford to do anything else wrong. When the silence lingered, Loki decided to ask. Better to ask for orders than for Stark to think him unwilling.

He gestured to the bathroom, trying to hide the nervous shaking of his hand. “Shall I prepare myself for you, Sir?”

Stark shook his head. “No, I think we’re gonna skip it tonight, Loki.”

Loki lowered his head, his hair falling into his face. So, that was how he would be punished for his unnamed transgression. Stark would have him without preparation, just as his legionnaires had done the first night. It would hurt, but it was not anything Loki could not endure. He accepted Stark's decision with as much grace as he could muster.

“Of course, Sir. I understand."

Stark pointed to the hallway leading past the bathroom. “You can go to your room. It’s the one on the left, _not_ the one on the right."

Loki stood and bowed. He had not yet seen the room Stark had prepared for him to use, and he swallowed back his anxious anticipation as he walked. Whatever the room was like, it would tell Loki a lot about how Stark intended to treat him. It could be a bare cell, or it could be a room designed for his master's pleasures. Whatever it was, Loki would learn more about his role and how he should behave.

To get to the room on the left, Loki had to pass the room on the right where the box lurked. His feet dragged as he approached, and he hugged the opposite wall. The door was closed, but a cold draft leaked from underneath it, brushing against Loki's bare feet like frozen feathers.

 _It's just a door,_ Loki told himself. It matched all the others in Stark’s home, but this one radiated _intent_ in a way that Loki could feel on his skin. The handle burned in his gaze, too bright for the dim light of the hallway. It hooked his attention like a magnet, pulling at his hands, trying to tempt him, trying to trick him. If he touched it, even the merest brush of his fingertips, the door would swing open and that monstrous thing would be waiting for him, ready to consume him like so much worthless meat.

His back to the opposite wall, Loki tried to push himself past the door. He could see the door to the room Stark wanted him in, and he just had to get there. The air was thick, and Loki's lungs burned as he tried to inhale. His vision blurred with desperate tears.

 _One step at a time._ _One step at a time. You can do it. Stark isn't going to put you in there. He promised. He promised. He promised. He's going to punish you but it won't be that. He promised._

The floor seemed to twist under Loki's feet, like a horse trying to throw it's rider, and Loki turned and ran the rest of the way. He slammed into the door of his room, the handle slipping in his sweaty hand, until he crashed through the door and into the room, frantic and shaking.

Heart pounding, he put his back to the door and leaned on it. He had done it. It may not seem like much, but to him, it was as though he had run up a towering peak. He was shaking and exhausted, so much so that he barely noticed his surroundings. There was a bed in the room, and that was all he could see. He staggered the few steps from the door to the bed and fell onto it, sinking into the soft surface, grabbing the blankets with both hands to keep himself there.

He looked over his shoulder to check that the door was closed, and when he saw that it was, he finally let out the breath he had been holding. He had done it. He was where Stark wanted him and he had done it by himself. That would please Stark. Not enough to avoid his punishment, of course, but perhaps enough to lessen it a little.

Loki turned over on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, noting the cameras in each corner looking down at him. He did not think about it. He was in Stark's home and Stark made the rules. Loki could only obey them. If Stark wanted to watch him at all times, then that is what would happen.

With great effort, Loki sat up and pulled off his clothes. Stark would visit him soon to claim his rights. Surely he would be pleased to find Loki stripped and ready for him? But, Loki second-guessed himself, Stark had told him _not_ to prepare himself. Did that mean he should _not_ undress?

Loki's head spun, and the thought of putting the loose sleeping clothes back on was suddenly unbearable. The room was hot, and a light sweat prickled Loki's brow. He lay on top of the covers, his limbs too heavy to move. When Stark came to him, he could have Loki dressed or undressed, prepared or unprepared, and in any manner or position he pleased. He could check the cameras and tell Loki how to present himself before he arrived, if he so desired. Stark was in charge, and Loki was glad of it. He did not have to decide anything, he merely had to wait for orders.

Loki closed his eyes, and waited.


	40. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise midweek chapter! Hope you're all doing well.

Sleep pulled on Loki’s mind and body, but he tried to resist. Stark was going to come for him soon, and he should not be found sleeping. It would be disrespectful, and Loki could not risk further compounding his master’s displeasure. He was exhausted, but restless. His joints ached and as the night wore on his head started to point. The soft bed was like rough stones under him and he tossed and turned so much that the sheets and blankets formed a tangled mound with him in the center, nestled like a rabbit in a burrow. It was that finally comforted him, the sensation of being wrapped, covered and sheltered eased his aches and sent him into a fitful half-doze.

Over and over, Loki dreamily revisited the sensation of Stark stroking his hair and the comforting weight of his hand on his shoulder. He put his own hand on the same spot, trying to recapture it, but it was not the same. Flickers of remembered touches flashed through his mind, not just Stark but older memories too. His mother’s warm embrace, his brother’s bear-like hugs, even his father’s occasional firm clasp on the upper arm. Loki’s skin ached for it. It was as though he would fly apart if something did not hold him together.

He wrapped the sheet tighter around himself, and tried to stay awake.

_“Loki, your presence is requested in the master bedroom.”_

The calm voice of Friday woke Loki up, and he fought his way out of his cocoon of blankets in a panic. Where was Stark? What time was it? Had he overslept, when he should not have been sleeping at all?

There were no windows in Loki's room, but he had left the lights on, and so he had on clue of what time of night it may be. He rolled out of the bed and fell onto the floor, confused that he was still alone. The meaning of Friday’s words had not yet fully penetrated his mind.

Friday repeated the order, seeming to realize that Loki had not understood his instructions.

“Loki, your presence is requested in the master bedroom.”

This time, it made sense. Loki had been expecting Stark to come to his room to claim him, but of course, why should he? Stark was the master of the household and he could summon Loki to his bed chamber whenever he wanted him.

Loki got to his feet, and despite his returning headache he was inexplicably heartened that this room, perhaps, would be his own. It would be welcome to sleep in a bed that he did not also have to spread his legs on.

Loki's hand hovered over the door handle for a moment before he turned back to the room. He was nude, and although it was obvious what Stark had summoned him for, Loki decided to dress anyway. He pulled on the same crumpled pajamas he had recently taken off, and ran his fingers through his hair to make himself presentable. It made little difference ultimately, but given the choice he preferred not to walk through the penthouse naked. He would be naked again soon, if that was what Stark desired of him, or if he was just required to bare his ass and bend over, well, that would be done with even sooner.

Light flooded into the room when Loki opened the door, and he blinked. It was morning already - he had slept the night away without even realizing it. Stark had not summoned him or visited him at all the previous night, and his punishment had not been delivered. So, he was to receive it now, the next day? That was confusing, but Loki had no time to think it through. His master was waiting for him and he had to run the gauntlet of the hallway before he could present himself.

The door he feared was now on his left, and he took a deep breath and scurried past it without looking, not quite running but certainly not dawdling. The chill air of that room twined around his ankles as he passed, and he did not stop until he was through the living room and in the hallway on the other side that led to Stark’s private chamber door.

There, he paused. He had been summoned, so he was expected, but still he could not simply open the door and announce himself. He remembered from his past life, shadowed and dreamlike though it may be, that guests to the royal suite were announced by a trusted servant, they did not announce themselves. Stark was a prince of Midgard, and Loki needed to treat him as such.

After some consideration, Loki knelt in the hallway. He pressed his back to the wall opposite the door, where he would be out of the way in case he was made to wait.

“Friday, please inform Mr Stark that I await his pleasure.”

“Certainly, Loki,” the A.I. replied brightly.

A moment later the door opened and Stark himself was there, wearing loose sleeping pants and a white undershirt.

“You can come in, Loki,” he said, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. “I appreciate the fancy manners but we don’t need to stand on ceremony here, do we?”

Loki stood and followed him into the room. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his skin buzzing with tension, his bones as brittle as glass. His pulse throbbed in his head like the roar of a river, and his eyes spun with dizzy stars.

_Calm down. You have been here before._

Everything in the room was as Loki remembered it, even down to the disarray of the bed covers and the photograph of the smiling woman on the bedside table. Stark’s wife, or so he had assumed, although it was odd that Stark never mentioned her.

“OK, you know how this works. Clothes off and up on the bed.”

Stark’s voice seemed to come from a long way away, muffled as though coming from underwater, and Loki's fingers were stiff as he struggled out of his pajamas. He hoped his clumsiness was not mistaken for unwillingness, which would only lead to greater punishment for him. He climbed up on the bed and took his position on his hands and knees, as he had done the first time. Just those few steps made him feel he had run a league, and Loki finally, finally began to think that something was not right. He stuffed the thought away. It did not matter if he was sick. He was here to serve and that is what he would do. He tried to focus on what Stark was saying.

“...morning, right? Maybe better than evening? Who knows. It’s pretty fucked up either way. But you know that already.”

The bed dipped as Stark climbed up, his words rolling over Loki’s back. The rumpled covers were soft under Loki’s fingers, and he focused on the small square of cloth between his hands. This would be fine. Stark did not even seem particularly angry or upset with him - surely he would not be unnecessarily cruel. Even as Loki allowed himself to hope, a sensory memory surfaced of the legionnaires electrocuting him as they raped him with their plastic cocks. The echo heaved itself from the depths of his mind like the rotted corpse of a whale, and Loki bit down on his whimper. Stark was not unnecessarily cruel, it was true, but he was certainly capable of _necessary_ cruelty. He had demonstrated that very thoroughly the night Loki had been sold to him. Loki straightened his aching back and slid his knees further apart. If it was necessary for him to be punished, he deserved it and he would not flinch from it.

Stark put one hand on Loki’s lower back, steadying himself as he got into position. That touch, as casual as it was, triggered something in Loki. Warmth, comfort and something akin to pleasure radiated out from that spot, a point of light in the darkness of Loki's pained body.

Loki clutched at the blanket, holding on tight to ground himself and keep himself upright. His thoughts vanished before the riot of sensation on his skin. Only now that there was some relief, did Loki realize how much everything had _hurt_. Stark’s hand was a cool balm, flowing through him to his core, a healing touch that he desperately needed. A moan pushed itself out of Loki's lips, and he closed his eyes, floating on air.

His transgression and imminent punishment now seemed a lot less important than getting Stark to touch him again.

“Loki, are you OK?”

“Yesss.” 

Loki’s voice was a breathy gasp and he shivered as a wash of need drenched him like a tidal wave. It was not desire, not lust or passion that he felt, but something more primal than that. It was purely a need to be touched, to have hands on his skin, to be comforted and cared for and safe. His skin _hungered_ for it. He needed to be touched like a kitten needs the warmth of its mother.

He moaned again, and his arms collapsed under him, arching his back, pressing his chest to the bed and displayed his most intimate self to Stark. If this was the only touch he could get, the sensation of Stark’s cock piercing him, he would take it. He still had enough sense to know his purpose. He had not yet utterly lost his mind, but he felt that he was going to fly apart, that he was going to turn to feathers and blow away if Stark removed his hand. Pain lingered on the edge of his senses, ready to surge back. His headache was lessened, but he could still feel it there, lurking behind his altered eyes, ready to spring back and chew on his nerves given the slightest chance.

Loki's unstoppable tears came then, but still he did not move from his assigned position. Stark was going to fuck him and if he was going to fuck him then he was going to touch him, and that was all Loki wanted. All he needed.

"Please," he sobbed, "Stark, please."

He held his position, and waited.


	41. Need

Stark sighed and sat beside Loki on the bed, tossing a tube of something on the table as he did so.

“Loki, you’re clearly _not_ OK. Remember when I said you might have some mood swings from the hormone blockers?”

Stark paused for Loki’s reluctant nod, then continued.

“Yeah, something's going on. Lie down, I’ll get the scanner.”

Before Loki could protest, Stark was up and out of the room, leaving Loki to fall into a miserable heap in the center of the bed. He wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to comfort himself as the headache throbbed behind his eyes and his skin itched and burned.

Stark was gone for what felt like an eternity, and when he returned Loki stretched out his arms pleadingly.

“Lie with me?”

It was pathetic, but perhaps Stark would pity him enough to allow him the comfort of his touch.

Stark only hesitated for a moment before he gave a resigned shrug. “Sure, why not. I was gonna fuck you, I guess this isn’t any worse.”

Loki, shameless now and drunk with need, tugged Stark onto the bed and squirmed up to his side. Despite his nudity and their location in Stark’s bed, there was nothing sexual about Loki’s actions, and thankfully Stark seemed to realize it. He could easily have pretended to misinterpret Loki’s desperation and put him back on his hands and knees for use, but he did not. Even if he had, Loki would have done nothing but moan in pleasure at the sensation of Stark’s skin against his own.

Instead of using him, Stark rolled Loki over onto his side and cuddled up to him from behind, tucking his knees against Loki's legs and pressing his chest to his bare back.

“You can be the little spoon, how’s that?”

“Yes…” Loki slurred, pushing back against Tony’s body, stars spinning before his eyes. “Yes, please, more.”

“There isn’t any more,” Stark said as he set the body scanner on the bed in front of Loki, activating it with one hand. “This is the maximum amount of big spoon I can deliver. Not my fault you're so tall.”

Despite his words, Stark did give Loki more, wrapping his arms around Loki's shoulders and cradling him as the scanner scribed his body in light. Loki lay boneless, hardly able to see the image or the rows of data that flowed under it, his skin pulsing with pleasure everywhere that Stark touched.

The display hung in the air, blue light glowing over them both, casting shadows and highlights that were almost hypnotic.

Stark hummed, thoughtful.

“Well, your temperature is the same as yesterday, and it doesn't seem that high. It’s normal for humans, I thought it would be OK for Asgardians too.”

“Mm not Asgardian,” Loki muttered into Stark’s arm. He shifted backwards, pressing as much of his body against Stark as he could, his headache easing, the broken-glass scrape of his joints melting away. “I’m Jotun.”

Stark sat up in surprise, but Loki’s deprived moan of discomfort and disappointment pulled him back down. “Wait, what? You’re not Asgardian? I thought you and Thor were brothers! He’s a whole different race than you?”

Loki nodded, the details of his heritage suddenly irrelevant compared to the utter bliss of Stark’s touch. “Odin took me as a baby. I am not his real son and I am not Thor’s real brother.”

“Um, well, that's interesting and actually explains a lot, but I’ve been using Thor as a baseline, and if you’re not even Asgardian that’s probably a bad idea.”

Loki nodded his dreamy assent. He would agree with anything Stark said at that point, as long as he did not let him go or leave him alone.

The image floating above them enlarged to show the close-up view of Loki’s belly.

“Is it working?” Loki asked, trying to focus his blurry eyes on the image. “Stark, is it still working?"

Stark hummed, thoughtful. “Yeah it is, if we keep up the treatment we probably only have a day or two to go."

The word 'if' pierced Loki's mind.

"I don't want to stop! I am already feeling better. This is nothing."

"Yeah, don't freak out, I don’t really want to stop it either, but we’re in unknown territory here. What do you know about Jotun people? Is this normal?”

Loki wrinkled his nose, childhood stories and songs coming back to his muddled mind.

“Jotun are monsters who scare children. They are brutes and beasts.”

Loki’s skin vibrated with Stark’s amused hum. “You’re not a monster, or a brute, or a beast,” he said. “You’ve done some bad things, but so have I. What do you _really_ know about the Jotun?”

Loki wracked his mind. What did he know to be true, rather than what was told by others? It was hard for him to concentrate, the depths of his memories covered in protective layers that he could not peel off. All he could remember was the bedtime song his mother used to sing, and before he realized it he was singing out loud, his voice scratchy and rough.

_Night is here, my little one,_

_Day is done and gone the sun,_

_Shut your door and windows tight,_

_The Jotun moon is high tonight._

_Night is dark, my little one,_

_No more time to hide or run,_

_The cutting blade of ice is bright,_

_The Jotun hunt their prey tonight._

_Night is long, my little one,_

_Hours before the dawn will come,_

_Your father he had gone to fight,_

_The Jotun beast will die tonight._

The song hung in the air for a moment when Loki was done, lost in memories. He was wrapped in cozy blankets in his childhood bedroom, his brother, always an easy sleeper, snored in the bed across from him, and his mother’s gentle face was lit by dim lamplight as she sang him to sleep.

“You have a nice voice,” Stark said, clearing his throat. “But all that song tells me is that the Jotun hunted by moonlight with ice-blades, and I guess from the last verse, the Asgardians used to go out to kill them?”

“My mother used to sing me that song when I could not sleep.”

“Well that’s all kinds of fucked up,” Stark said decisively. “She knew you were Jotun, I assume?”

Loki nodded. He had never thought of that, but of course Frigga had known, and she had still chosen to sing him to sleep with that song.

“She knew,” he said shortly, his chest tight at the memory.

“Well, that's something else for the therapy list. Along with all the rest."

Stark closed off that area of conversation decisively, and Loki tried to follow suit, shutting out the flood of memories and emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. None of that was relevant now. It was in the past and this was his life now. 

Stark was still talking when Loki managed to get back to the present.

"...don’t like this new development - it might be nothing to worry about but it might be something serious. I hate to say it but it might be time to call Thor. Is he going to know about the Jotun?”

"He knows their weaknesses in battle," Loki muttered, recalling his brother's eager readiness to fight Laufey and his court. "He knows how to put them down and ensure they do not rise again."

That battle seemed a nightmare now. The horror of the haunting revelation when Laufey's warrior had grabbed his arm had never left him. Loki looked down, Stark's warm hand was holding his forearm, covering the spot that had turned frozen blue at that fateful moment on Jotunheim. Loki shuffled back, collecting as much warmth and comfort as he could.

Stark did not seem to notice, and continued with his thoughts. "OK, that’s not going to be super helpful. Got any other ideas? If not, I still think we should talk to him."

Loki tried to think of another reason not to contact his brother. Before he could come up with anything, he shifted his position again and became aware that Stark may be enjoying their closeness for a different reason than he was. Once he realized exactly what was poking him in the hip, Loki seized on the chance for distraction, squirming back into Stark’s lap. The intense wave of warmth that washed over him had nothing lustful about it, but perhaps Stark would mistake it for something that matched his own mood.

“Stark,” he said, speaking carefully, trying to appear coherent. “It is not necessary for you to deny yourself. I am perfectly fine, if you wish to...continue.”

“You are _not_ perfectly fine.”

“I am well enough.”

Even in his dreamy state, Loki knew better than to tell Stark that he had taken him in worse condition than this. Indeed, Stark had _put_ him in worse condition than this, with the merciless attentions of his legionnaires. Perhaps Loki could persuade him to fulfill his desires, and leave his punishment for another day. If he would have him like this, the full length of their bodies pressed together, Loki thought that he may even enjoy it.

He dared to reach back and put his hand on Stark’s hip, pulling him closer. Stark could have his pleasure, and Loki could have the comfort of his touch. It was a better bargain than Loki had had in a long while.

“Stark, he will know, if you do not make good use of me. You said it yourself. Until he has undone the damage done by Thanos, the Grandmaster must think me well used. I am willing to perform for you! I am well enough, I assure you. Please, I want to serve you. I want to be useful to you…”

“Alright, OK.” Stark grumbled, but he reached over and picked up a tube of lubricant from the bedside table. He knew Loki was right. 

Loki shivered in anticipation, glad that he would not be subjected to his punishment this morning. Despite his brave words, he could feel the ache and throb of his headache just behind his eyes, as well as the scrape of his joints and the skittering itch of his skin. It was all lurking under the surface, ready to seize him again if Stark let him go.

Stars burst behind his eyes as Stark eased his slick fingers inside him. The intensity of the touch was magnified tenfold in such an intimate place. Loki had never felt such a sensation before. It was not arousal, not desire, but a bone-deep need to be held, to be touched, to be safe and protected, to be possessed like a pet, like a dog at his master’s feet, utterly servile but utterly sure of his place.

_He will protect me,_ Loki thought dizzily to himself as Stark shifted behind him. The fat head of a cock pushed at Loki's entrance, blunt and insistent. Thousands of memories flickered through his mind like the pages of a book, each page written with the same story. Loki knew how the tale ended. He was forced to yield, every time.

_I yield,_ he thought, his head spinning, the bed and the room blurring around him, dissolving into tears. _I yield. I yield, I surrender. Please have mercy. Save me._

Stark hooked his arm under Loki’s knee and pulled his leg up, giving himself room to sink as deeply as he wanted into Loki’s body. Loki responded by instinct, pushing back and arching his spine, giving Stark what he wanted - an easy angle to take his pleasure. Even as he did it, as he gave himself as willingly and submissively as he could, Loki was fading out. His aches and pains vanished into darkness as Stark fucked him. He dissolved into a white-out haze like a single snowflake in a storm. He was swallowed by a whirlpool of stars, where he was a speck of dust and Stark was the universe itself.

He was nothing, helpless and powerless. Stark was everything - his protector, his savior, his master.

There was nothing Loki could do but let go, and fall.


	42. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note - New tag for abortion and some discussion of pregnancy (alien and human) that may be squicky for some people

When Loki woke up, he was on the couch in the living room. He was dressed, he was alone, and he had no memory of how he got there. The last thing he remembered was the blissful sensation of Stark’s cock sliding into him, and then nothing but darkness.

“Stark,” he called, struggling to sit up, weighed down by his off-center belly. “Stark?”

His head was pounding again, and he was barely sitting up before his stomach rebelled, nausea sweeping over him. He lay down again, breathing hard.

“Loki, Mr Stark is in the lab, he will return shortly.”

Loki tried to nod, but all he could think was that he was alone and abandoned. His joints ached, and he wanted to chew his fingernails off, anxiety rising by the moment.

“Stark, I need you,” he said to the air, not expecting any response. To his surprise he got a reply.

“I won’t be long,” Stark’s voice floated from the ceiling. “Are you freaking out again? There’s lemons in the kitchen.”

“No,” Loki said, “No, it’s not that. I...I just need you.”

“Yeah, and I’m not surprised looking at your blood. Your hormones are going wild. I’ll be right up. Nat’s on her way over too.”

Loki felt a surge of excitement at seeing Romanov again. She had been relatively kind to him, and she was too pragmatic to actively despise him. Unable to wait patiently for Stark, he staggered to the elevator and stood there are it rose. When it opened he tried to bow, but it turned into a helpless stagger forward, crashing into Stark and sending him back a few steps.

Stark frowned, obviously irritated.

“Give a guy a little space.” Stark put one finger on Loki’s chest and pushed him back, the force of that single finger sending Loki reeling, rejection burning in his body like fire.

Stark didn't notice, flopping down on the couch, weariness apparent in every cell of his body. He rubbed his eyes, then looked up at Loki standing forlorn before him. He sighed.

“Sorry. Sorry, that was uncalled for. You can’t help it. Sit down.”

Loki fell on the couch like a starving man falling on a crust of bread, all dignity forgotten. He sat as close as he could, pressed against Stark’s side, the warmth and comfort of his body like manna on his thirsty soul. A moment later, Stark relented, stretching out on the couch and pulling Loki down with him, letting him rest his head on his chest, and twining their legs together. Loki could not help the moan that escaped his lips - the thud of Stark’s heartbeat in his ear was the closest he had come to Valhalla.

The elevator dinged, and footsteps crossed the marble floor.

_“Hey Tony, Loki. What’s going on?”_

Stark craned his neck to look up from his prone position under Loki.

“Hey Nat. Thanks for coming over. I need your help. Long story short - I’m giving Loki hormone blockers to get the alien eggs to detach from his lower intestine, but the eggs are flooding Loki’s system with different hormones which have basically turned him into a giant, needy, cuddle-puppy.”

“Huh,” Romanov said, taking that explanation in stride. She sat on the low table in front of the couch, looking directly into Loki’s white eyes, her head cocked to the side. “How’re you doing there, Loki?”

Loki did his best to reply, but Stark’s warm hand on his back was melting his spine into goo, and all he could do was hope he could stay right here, forever. “Good Morning, Lady Romanov,” he managed, or at least that’s what he was trying to say. It may have come out a little slurred from being spoken into Stark’s chest.

“It’s afternoon,” she said, but Loki didn’t even care that he had lost hours of the day. Stark had fucked him into some kind of timeless stupor and it didn’t bother him at all. Stark could do it again, if he wanted to, Loki would be happy to spread his legs at his command.

Romanov turned back to Stark. “OK, your story checks out. What help do you need?”

Stark made a gesture that Loki could not see, but he assumed was directed at him.

“Erm, right. Loki, what happens when you’re by yourself?”

Loki twisted his fingers into Stark’s shirt. “Everything hurts,” he said, doing his best to convince them that he should _not_ be left by himself. “My head hurts, my bones ache, I want to crawl out of my skin. I feel like I am lost, that I am alone and if no one touches me that I’m going to die.”

Romanov exchanged a glance with Stark over his head.

“Right. And how do you feel now?”

Loki could not describe it. The sensation of comfort that enveloped him when he was held reminded him of being a child again. He was safe and comforted, and he had no cares other than to earn the approval of those who had authority over him. He tried to explain.

“Good,” he said, almost purring like a cat. “Feels good.”

“Hmm, well, that’s pretty clear. Not sure what you want me to do, Tony.”

“Nat, I can’t just lie around until those damn eggs are out of him! I’ve got things to do.”

“Can't you make another hormone blocker?”

“Maybe, but the eggs adapted pretty fast. Who knows what the next adaptation is going to be. I'd rather not chance it unless we have to.”

“Yeah, I agree. Hold tight. I’m gonna try something.”

Romanov stood up, kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her leather jacket. She was wearing a faded black t-shirt underneath, and close-fitting blue pants with pale pink socks. Without another word, she climbed onto the couch, laying on top of Loki and Stark, putting Loki in the middle of a sandwich of bodies.

If Loki had felt good before, now he felt utterly transported. Four arms circled and protected him, warm heartbeats pulsed against his body from each side. The press of bodies against his skin was blissful, it was like being drunk on sparkling _ampavin_ wine. He let out a long moan, one that came from the depths of his heart. He never wanted to move, ever again.

“Alright, mystery solved.”

Stark gasped for breath. “I’m glad you solved it, but before you do the scooby-doo monologue I’m literally being crushed to death here.”

Romanov shifted to the side a little, letting her back rest on the couch, taking her weight off Stark while keeping contact with Loki.

“That’s better. Nat, explain to the kids at the back of the class.”

“Loki’s pregnant,” Romanov said from her perch on top of the pile. “Not conventionally, but he’s the mom and the eggs are the baby.”

“Gross, but carry on.”

“I’m making allowances because you’ve never been pregnant,” Romanov said, the lightness gone from her tone, replaced by her flat, controlled monotone. “But at least with humans, the developing baby has a lot of control over the Mom’s body. If the baby needs protein, Mom gets a craving for meat. If it needs sodium, Mom gets a craving for olives, or pickles, or potato chips. The kid is the puppet master and Mom is the puppet. To a degree. It’s not like Mom has no control, but if some bratty little fetus is metaphorically kicking on your uterus yelling _Pickles! Pickles! Pickles!_ It’s a lot easier to just eat some damn pickles than to try and argue the point.”

Stark tried to sit up, then realizing he was still crushed by two people, he gave up and spoke from where he was. “Nat, have you been pregnant?”

“Irrelevant,” Romanov answered crisply. “The point is, Loki’s alien babies need something, and they’re kicking on his uterus-equivalent to try and get it.”

“They need to be gone,” Loki muttered, his hand over his mouth. He was utterly revolted by Romanov’s description of the parasitic nature of pregnancy. How did people tolerate it, never mind embrace it as so many seemed to do?

“That’s got to be it!” Stark squeezed out from under the pile, leaving Loki lying under Romanov. It was not so bad, as the couch was still warm where Stark had been, and Romanov’s weight on his back held him together. He stretched out his hand to follow Stark as he paced the room, pointing in his direction like the needle of a compass pointing to true north.

“The eggs know they’re being aborted. They _must_ know, or at least sense it. Some of them are almost all the way unimplanted. This must be a defensive reaction. They think their host is weak or maybe under attack, and they’re trying to make him seek safety and protection. That’s why he’s so needy.

“Likey,” Romanov confirmed. “I don’t know how these aliens operate, but most species instinctively care for pregnant members of the group. The group doesn’t necessarily know that the eggs are basically alien cuckoos.”

“What’s a cuckoo?”

Loki tried to keep up with the conversation, but Stark and Romanov did not seem to need his input. He asked the question so that he at least would not be forgotten, talked over and discussed as though he were not there at all.

“A cuckoo is a bird that finds a nest, kicks out the eggs that are in there, lays its own eggs and then abandons them, leaving the other bird to nurture its eggs and raise its young.”

“I will not raise them,” Loki said, pressing his hands to his belly, feeling the nauseating shapes of the eggs through his skin. “I did not want any of this. The crogall did this to me and they never gave me any choice. I want them gone.”

“Mmm, that raises a good point,”

Romanov reached down to hover her hand over Loki’s belly, waiting for his nod of permission before she touched his flesh. She pressed down to feel the movement of the eggs inside him, jostling each other like closely-packed fruit.

“How are you planning to get these things out? I get that they’re detaching, but, you know, in practical terms. How are you going to actually get them out?”

Stark stared at her, his eyes wide with unexpressed thoughts. Loki took the opportunity to slip his hand around Stark’s knee, holding him and leaning into his scent. Romanov was a reasonable substitute, still gamely stretched out on his back, but Stark was the intoxicating original target for his overloading hormones. He was the one who made Loki feel safe. He was the one that Loki knew would, and could, protect him.

“I was gonna just let nature take its course,” Stark said weakly.

“Uh huh. And have alien cuckoo-lizards crawling up out of the sewers a few years later?"

“OK, point. I guess we’ll have to take direct action. Flush them out. Maybe we can even start tomorrow.”

Loki still did not speak as his treatment was discussed. Whatever Stark decided, Loki would accept. He had no need to argue or complain, because Stark would take care of him.

“Can you stay? I can make an egg-extractor but I can’t do it while I’m lying on the couch. I don't want to leave him alone, he’s in no state to handle it.”

Loki felt Romanov’s shrug. “What about Thor? Or Steve? If he needs to feel protected those are two beefy guys who can take care of him better than us mere mortals.”

Loki whimpered in alarm, the thought of being handed over to Thor’s command and Rogers’ stiff-necked reserve made his bones ache. He wanted to stay with Stark and Romanov in the penthouse.

The whimper got Stark’s attention. He looked down at Loki where he lay on the couch, a touch of kindness softening his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to send you away. I just think that looking after you is going to be more of a team effort.”

Stark had made his decision, and although Loki did not like it, he knew better than to argue.

Until the eggs were dealt with, it seemed he would be in the care of all of the avengers.


	43. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there friends. A cozy chapter for you today, feel free to jump to it if you want to skip my rambling about my comment policy :)
> 
> My general policy is to delete negative anon comments. Some of you noticed I left up a pretty critical anon comment on the last chapter, which is not something I would usually do, but I made an exception for it because even though it was anon I know who it was from, and I have known the person for some time, so I felt that in the spirit of past friendship I would leave it up and let them have their say.   
> Not to get into it but that was a mistake and I ended up deleting that comment and the replies. Sorry if your reply got caught in the crossfire, and sorry if you read that comment - I should not have left it up when it was so insulting not just to me but to many other people. from now on I am officially reinstating my policy to delete negative anon comments! 
> 
> Now that this is decided, I hope you enjoy the chapter (and if you don't, tell me about it from your logged in account, lol!)
> 
> :)

Thor arrived moments after Stark called him, lightning crackling from Stormbreaker’s blade as he landed outside the penthouse windows. Loki was still stretched out on the couch, his head on Stark’s lap, Romanov laying on his back. She had made herself comfortable with a pillow on his shoulders, and was tapping away at her communication device.

“What had occurred?” Thor strode into the room, looking at the pile of them on Stark’s couch. “You said you need my help? Loki, are you hurt? Sick? Romanov, get off him at once!”

Romanov did not move, and thankfully Start jumped into the awkward pause.

“Hey Thor. We do need your help. I'm gonna call Steve too, but it's good that you're here first. Um...actually, Loki - do you want to tell Thor what's going on?”

Loki jerked his head up at Stark’s question. He had not expected to be invited to speak, and he was content for Stark to do his explaining for him. His veins were buzzing with pleasant chemicals. The weight of Romanov on his back and the warmth of Stark’s thigh under his cheek were all he wanted or needed. Even Thor’s presence had hardly made a dent in his blissful mood.

He shook his head, tucking his fingers under Stark's thigh for extra warmth.

“OK, no worries. Thor, you wanna take a seat, no need to loom over everyone.”

Thor tentatively sat on the chair opposite the couch, setting Stormbreaker by his side. He gestured to the pile of bodies on the couch.

“Kindly explain why my brother is being used as a pillow. It is most disrespectful.”

Loki could not hide his blissed-out smirk. He imagined Thor arriving several hours ago when Stark had been thoroughly disrespecting him in his bed. That had been the first time in a very long time that sex had been something other than painful, humiliating, or both. Loki could not quite shake the wonder of it.

Stark began his explanation, and Loki tried to concentrate on it.

“Yeah, I get that it looks bad. But it's necessary! I gave Loki hormone blockers to get the eggs to detach and er...be extracted. It’s working and I think tomorrow we can start to get some of them out, but there are some side-effects. Mainly that the eggs started releasing hormones that make him super needy and touch-starved. Hence the cuddle-pile. If we don’t keep in contact, he’s going to get sick. So, in summary, we need volunteers for cuddle-pile duty.”

There was a long silence as Thor absorbed that information. He did not look away from Loki’s face. The intensity of his gaze made Loki want to turn away, but at the same time those familiar electric-blue eyes held him in place. Loki had thought he felt nothing for his former brother, but now, looking at him again, pinned by his stare, Loki did not know how he felt. Thor saw him, not just as he was, broken and needy, and not just as he had been during his invasion, half-mad and raging, but as he had been over the course of a thousand years. That was not something to be thrown away lightly.

_ It's just the hormones making you sentimental. _

Despite Loki's cynical thought, it could not be denied that he and Thor had over a thousand years of history between them. The moments they had shared were not all bad, and not all good, but a woven fabric that encompassed all. The threads that made up their cloth were dark and thin now, stretched out by the loom of fate almost to breaking, but Loki was surprised to realize they were not broken yet.

“Loki, this is what you want?”

Loki just stared, lost in his thoughts, and Stark started to answer on his behalf. “Yeah, Thor, like I said it’s to get the eggs out…”

“I did not ask  _ you _ , Stark.”

Stark held his hands up, and nudged Loki to respond.

Thor leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, intent and serious. “Loki. Is this what you want? To take these medicines Stark has made, and cause the end of the crogall hatchlings?”

“I want them gone.” Loki said, his certainty on that point absolute and without doubt. He could not stand those parasites to lodge in his belly for a moment longer than he had to, deforming his body and feeding on his flesh.

Thor looked thoughtful, pensive, “The crogall were once allies of Asgard...”

Loki could not let him finish, rage flashing through him, blinding him with fury. He sat up so fast that Romanov tumbled over the back of the couch, landing on all fours like a cat and springing back to her feet.

“No! The crogall are  _ not  _ your allies any longer, Thor, and if you think they are you are a fool! The universe has changed - the crogall are dwindling in numbers and they are desperate. They are allies to no one but themselves. I told them who I was, I told them who  _ you  _ were, I even promised them a reward for my safe return, and do you know what they did?”

“Loki, I did not mean to imply..."

" _ What did they do, Thor? _ " Loki was in no mood to back down. His brother was able to provoke him to anger when all others provoked a blend of fear, anxiety and trembling obedience. Loki di dnot think about why that was.   


"They refused you,” Thor said, the answer obvious from Loki’s impregnated state.

Loki laughed, standing to pace the room, the surge of anger overpowering the needy hormones from the eggs, sending him spinning from hazy compliance to blinding rage in an instant.

“They did not merely refuse me! They drugged me, hung me in their breeding room and raped me, and not just one of them, Thor, but dozens, one pair after another. I was nothing but fresh meat to them. They stuffed me full of their cursed spawn and sent me back to the Grandmaster. So yes, this is what I want. I want to take Stark’s drugs, I want their eggs gone and I want my body back!”

Thor nodded slowly, his face pale, his brow shining with uncomfortable sweat. “It is your right. I will not deny you.”

“You do not have the authority to deny me!” Loki knew he should have kept his mouth shut as soon as he said it, because Stark  _ did  _ have the authority to deny him. If Thor's mention of an alliance with the crogall had given Stark ideas, he could decide he wanted the hatchlings after all. All he had to do was stop giving Loki injections, he without any effort at all he would be reverted back to being an incubator for the crogall.

Loki turned to Stark, his mouth full of pleading words, but Stark was glaring at Thor.

“Are you gonna to help, or are you just gonna rile him up?”

“That is not my intention,” Thor protested, "I came here to help."

Loki was in no mood to interpret Thor’s words with generous spirit.

“I do not want your help!”

Loki could not control himself, his hazy contentment was gone, and he clasped his hands together to stop them trembling. The flash-flood of anger had drained away as fast as it had arrived, leaving him washed up on the shore, sand already grinding at his joints. He needed to be held, but he did not want to show it.

Ever perceptive, Romanov put her hands on his shoulders from where she now stood behind the couch. A moment later Tony leaned over and put his hand on Loki's leg, but it was not enough. He needed more.

“Loki, please.” Thor stood and approached the group, as wary as a hunter approaching a skittish deer. “I know you are angry with me, but will you give me a chance? I came here to help you, I swear it. I owe you that, at least.”

Loki crossed his arms. “I refuse to lie on your lap.”

“You do not have to. I have a better idea.”

Loki looked up at that, curious despite himself. Thor caught his eye and smiled, not his usual bright beam, but a smaller, wistful smile that glowed from his eyes.

“Loki, do you remember when we were young, and we used to take lessons together? I always took much longer than you, and you would get so impatient with me.”

Loki nodded. Of course he remembered. Thor was an oaf with no love of books and learning. He remembered it well, but he did not know how it was relevant to his situation now.

“When we worked in the library, and you would finish while I was still groaning over my tasks, do you remember what you used to do?”

Loki stared at him, not sure what he was thinking of, or where this was going. He shook his head.

Thor turned and knelt before the couch, his back to Loki, and in a flash Loki knew what he was talking about. They had been young at the time, so much younger than seemed possible now. For a time, Loki had stayed small and wiry while Thor had grown broad-shouldered and tall. Loki had taken advantage of their mismatched size as often as he could. In this case, while Thor labored over his books, Loki had taken to climbing on his chair and sliding himself down between the chair and his brother. With a little squirming he had made room to drape himself over his brother’s back, his chin resting on Thor’s shoulder. From that vantage point, he could look down at Thor's paper and point out every error and mistake on his work.

Without a word, Loki scooted forward on the couch and leaned against Thor’s back. He rested his chin on his shoulder and tucked his hands under Thor’s armpits. The position was not quite right. Loki's belly got in the way, and their size difference was gone - Loki was no longer a monkey that could cling to Thor’s back and ride him like a pony.

Thor tipped forward and put his hands on the table, taking Loki’s weight on his back as he mimicked writing. “That’s right,” he said, a warm chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Now tell me how I am an oaf who cannot tell the dojkalfar from the ljosalfar.”

“I am sorry,” Loki said. His brother’s heartbeat was steady under his hands, and the rhythm of it calmed his own pulse. The warmth and bulk of Thor’s body settled the raging hormones in his veins. “I am sorry for saying that. I should have helped you, not mocked you.”

“I should have helped  _ you _ ,” Thor said at once, staring at his hands, fingers spread on the tabletop. “I apologize that it has taken me so long to realize it. I should not have left you on Sakaar and I am sorry that I did. I was angry, and I did not think of the consequences to you. It was wrong, and if I could undo what you have suffered because of my decision, I would. I will never do such a thing again. I hope you will allow me to help you in any way that I can."

Loki was dumbstruck by Thor’s apology. It was heartfelt and specific, even naming what he had done wrong. It could not be more different to his usual mumbled apologies, which had been little more that vague expressions of regret thrown out to the universe, as though general sorrow could negate the need to ever change. Loki could think of no reply, except to share the knowledge that he had withheld so many years ago.

“The dojkalfar dwell underneath the well of Urtarbrunnr,” he said, picturing the Allfather’s weighty tomes before his eyes as he explained the ages-old lesson. “Many think them twisted and heartless, but their ancestors drank from the well of wisdom and they have insights that even Odin did not have. The ljosalfar dwell on Alfheim, in the light of the sun. They are beautiful to behold but do not be blinded by it, they guard the gates of Víthblainn and will let none pass to that place of honor but their own kind. People call them dark elves and light elves, but neither one is any darker or lighter than the other. They are merely people, they both possess wisdom and folly, creation and destruction in their hearts.”

“Then they are not so different from us,” Thor said, still looking at his hands on the table. Loki could only see a portion of his face, and the lack of eye contact made it easier for him to speak freely. That, and the warmth of Thor’s body seeping through his clothes, easing his muscles and soothing his ragged nerves.

Loki let his head rest on Thor’s shoulder, relaxing his body until he was slumped over Thor’s back. “Do you remember I used to fall asleep like this?” He tried not to move, attempting to capture that syrupy, languid sensation of dozing on his brother’s back in the thick, learned air of the royal library.

“Aye. When I was finally finished I would leave my books scattered across the table and carry you out to the gardens to find mother. I was always surprised you did not wake up with me jostling you around.”

“I did,” Loki confessed with a sleepy smile. “I woke up every time. I just liked to be carried.”

Thor snorted. “You liked to make me your mule, rather!”

“That too,” Loki agreed, pushing himself back upright and patting the couch for Thor to sit down. “Now I am done with talking. Lie down, you big oaf.”

Thor obliged, replacing Stark on the couch and letting Loki stretch out full length on top of him. Romanov picked up her pillow and took her place on Loki’s back, resting her full weight on him. Thor could easily take it, unlike Stark's relatively fragile Midgardian body.

Thor held out one hand and summoned Stormbreaker from across the room, leaning the handle across Loki’s legs and pinning him in place.

“Mmm…”

Loki melted like butter. His belly was crushed, but he did not care. He had enough room to inflate his lungs and that was all he needed.

Loki did not even hear Stark leave the room. His eyes drifted closed, and in mere moments he was fast asleep, his head resting on his brother's shoulder just as it had so many years ago in the royal library. 

It was not forgiveness, but it was acceptance. 

It was a start.   



	44. Intervention

When Loki opened his eyes again, the sun had crossed the remainder of the sky, and the room was filling with darkness. The weight of Romanov was gone from his back, replaced by what felt like several blankets and pillows. Thor snored under him, his chest rumbling like an active volcano, gently vibrating Loki’s body with every breath. Without Romanov, Loki was not lost in blissful contentment as he had been, but he was not in pain and his mind was not clouded with needy desperation. He felt surprisingly normal.

A slight movement caught Loki’s attention and his eyes snapped to the chair opposite the couch. Captain Rogers was sitting there, as though he had been there for some time. His back was stiff, and his face was tight.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki said, without sitting up. That said, he could not think what to say next. Rogers was looking at him, a mixture of anxious dread and compassion on his face. Loki did not know how to interpret it, so he fell back on what he thought was safe, clearing his throat to allow the words to come out.

“I apologize for what I did at Stark’s party. I swear I did not know…”

He gestured at his own mouth. The horror of the implants and what he had done to Rogers stripped away most of the warmth and comfort he felt, leaving him shivery and chilled. He would feel a lot more comfortable to face Rogers if Romanov or Stark were there, but they were both gone. Loki had to redeem himself alone.

Rogers shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, as though stating a simple truth, as through Loki had not been the one to violate him in front of his friends and allies.

“But…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Loki. En Dwi Gast made you do it. You even tried to warn me about him before he came back. If I had left you alone there, it wouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”

Loki stared at him. “It was not your fault,” he said, just as simply and obviously as Rogers had said to him.

Rogers shifted in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position.

“Knowing that is different from believing it.”

Loki nodded, aware of what Rogers meant. The weight of guilt, earned or unearned, was an impossible burden to escape.

There seemed little else to say, and without the distraction of conversation Loki felt cold air creeping up his back. The pillows that Romanov had left were doing a poor job at simulating her weight and comforting presence. He did his best to hide his growing distress - Rogers was uncomfortable enough without Loki adding to it.

But it seemed that Rogers was not finished with having uncomfortable conversations.

“Is Tony treating you OK?”

Loki nodded at once. Of course, Stark was treating him well. He was treating Loki far, far better than he had been treated in the past year by anyone who had had the slightest power over him. Stark was a gift of fate, by comparison.

“Is he sleeping with you?”

Loki took a moment to understand Rogers’ euphemism, and when he did, he could not help the color that rose on his cheeks.

“I do not mind,” he said, a protective urge to defend Stark rising inside him. “I do not mind. He saved me; it is his right to...do that.”

Rogers absorbed that explanation, but it did not have the intended effect.

“I know how it feels, now, when you have to let it happen,” he said slowly. “I felt it that night - it was more dangerous to resist. That was only one time for me, but I know you've been feeling that way for a long time."

Rogers sat forward in his chair, his gaze intent and focus. He dropped his voice, speaking to Loki almost in a whisper.

"En Dwi Gast is not here now. No one’s going to hurt you or punish you or force you, if you don’t want to...do that.”

Loki lifted his head from Thor’s shoulder. He could not discuss this matter while he was lying on his sleeping brother, but he could not delay. This conversation needed to end with perfect clarity - Loki must not allow any doubt to creep in. He must not risk Stark being shamed or shunned by his allies for claiming what was his by right. He was doing what was necessary to protect Loki and Midgard from The Grandmaster's spite.

“I want to," Loki said, injecting as much conviction into his voice as he could muster. "Stark wants to do it and so do I. There is no reason to be concerned.”

Rogers did not look convinced. He chewed his lip for a moment before he tried a different tack.

“If you want to leave, you can. You can go with Thor, or I can help you find somewhere safe.”

Loki wanted to laugh at the idea that there was anywhere on Midgard where he could be safe if Stark had a mind to hunt him down. Loki had the obedience disk in his neck and Stark held the controller. There was no chance at all that Loki could hide from his master. But he did not _want_ to! He was not being held against his will, he was exactly where he wanted and needed to be. 

A movement under him took his attention, and Loki looked down to see his brother wide awake and waiting for his response. When Loki did not respond, Thor gently encouraged him.

“If you want to come to New Asgard, I will not allow Stark to stop you.”

Tears sprang to Loki’s eyes. The very idea that Thor and Rogers would defy their powerful ally on his behalf made Loki's head spin.

Of course, the idea was impossible, but their gesture meant a great deal. It was not, as Loki had feared a few days ago, that going with Thor would merely be swapping one master for another. That concerns had faded in his mind. Now, Loki must decline their offer because Stark had earned his loyalty, he had earned his trust, and he had earned his rights.

“Stark is treating me very well,” Loki said. He chose his words carefully, trying to put an end to this uncomfortable line of questioning. Rogers and Thor could disapprove of Stark all they liked, but Loki would not give them any ammunition to use against the man who had rescued him. “He is not hurting me or making me do anything that I am not willing to do. Thank you both for your concern, but I want to stay with him. I do not want to leave.”

Rogers and Thor exchanged a glance. Loki wondered if this conversation and Stark and Romanov’s absence had been engineered between the two of them. Then, he wondered if Stark had _allowed_ them to engineer it so that he could observe and confirm Loki’s loyalty. This was his home, after all, and he had been clear with Loki that he was going to watch him through his cameras.

Loki pushed himself to a sitting position, at once missing the warmth and comfort of Thor’s bulk under him. Stark may be watching, which made it was even more essential that Loki end all doubts. If any further evidence of Stark's generous treatment were needed, Loki would provide it. He walked by himself to the kitchen, opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of the nutritious drink that Stark fed him. His hands only shook a little as he did it. He had never taken food without permission before, content to eat only what Stark gave him. But this was for a specific purpose, to show that he was well fed and therefore well treated.

He twisted the lid off the bottle and drank from it without tasting it. If Stark did not like what he had done he could punish him for it, but Loki doubted that he would. He trusted that Stark would understand and approve of his purpose.

Loki leaned on the counter. The short walk had left him fatigued and he shivered as a chill ran up his back. Without seeming to hurry, he walked back to the couch and sat close enough to Thor to feel his warmth, but not so close that they were touching. Thor had no regard for subtlety, however, and he flung his arm around Loki’s shoulder and dragged him close. Loki could not help the sigh of contentment that escaped his lips. Thor was like a furnace and Loki was a cat curled up before it, limp with heat. He barely drank half the bottle before he had to put it down, his eyelids drooping again. Since he had come to Midgard, he felt that all he did was sleep.

He rested his head on Thor’s shoulder and heard the deep rumble of his brother’s voice explaining the situation to Rogers - that Loki was in need of physical comfort, and if he did not get it the medicine Stark was giving him would start to hurt him. Loki did not follow the whole discussion, and he was not required to contribute to it. Thor answered all Rogers' questions, and after a few more minutes discussion the couch dipped on his other side. Rogers' clean scent drifted through Loki's senses - soap, fresh mornings, and well-polished leather. A blanket was draped over his shoulders, and another over his lap. Rogers did not sit as close as Loki would have liked, but his presence was there, and that helped ease the escalation grind of Loki’s joints and the ache of his bones.

He blindly reached out and found the Captain’s hand, gripping it tightly. After a moment of hesitation, Rogers surrendered and let Loki hold his hand on his lap, tugging him a little closer, bumping their shoulders together.

That was close enough. Rogers was wary around Loki, but still he was willing to do this for him. It was more than Loki had any right to expect.

“Thank you,” Loki mumbled, sleep already claiming him once more.


	45. Sleep

Sleep dragged at Loki. Voices crossed over his head, blending seamlessly with his dreams. One of the voices was his master, and Loki was content to be in his presence, to remain in this drifting sleep-state until he was wanted. He did not know how long the calm river of conversation carried him, but it ended abruptly when a sharp note entered in his master’s voice.

Loki's eyes snapped open at once. He was careful not to move a muscle, not until he knew what had caused Stark's anger.

The room was lit by soft lamps, and Thor, Rogers and Stark were glaring at each other. Or rather, Loki realized as he rapidly assessed the situation, Thor and Rogers, still sitting on either side of him, were glaring at Stark. Stark was sitting opposite the couch, the bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He did not look up, or seem to notice that Loki was awake.

“I asked you two here to help, not to make things harder.”

“It’s not making things harder to tell you that you’re making a mistake! You don’t know that En Dwi Gast wants you to do...those things. He could have meant something else!”

Stark barked out a cold laugh. “ _ Those things _ ? You can’t even make yourself say it, huh? I'm sorry that fact that I’m  _ fucking  _ Loki is so  _ fucking  _ offensive to you Steve, but you’re  _ fucking  _ crazy if you think that wasn’t exactly what En Dwi Gast meant. I’m not going to risk four billion lives to ease your conscience.”

"Stark!"

“Sorry Thor. But Steve - I don’t wanna hear it. I can't deal with it. If you don’t like what's going on, you know where the door is. Head down to the communications room and help Romanov set up the  _ Stark Clean Water Information Alliance _ .”

“I’m a soldier, not a...I don’t know what. I can’t sit behind a desk and make phone calls.”

Stark gave him a withering look.

“Go polish your shield then. If everyone really does come back, it’s going to be a total shit-show.”

“Are you asking me to leave?”

Loki kept his body relaxed and his head resting on his brother’s shoulder. He was not eavesdropping - his eyes were open and everyone was aware that he was present. He just knew better than to draw attention to himself when people around him were angry. It was too dangerous. They may turn their anger on him, and he could not risk it, not with what lurked behind the door a few paces down the hallway.

Thor rumbled, his arm tight around Loki’s shoulders.

"Stark, Loki is my brother."

A hint of appeal entered Stark's voice.

"I know that, man. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so blunt. I'm not doing anything...bad. Nothing like that first night. But you know as well as I do what En Dwi Gast meant. I need you both to accept that."

"First night?"

Loki winced as he remembered that Thor had not been present to see the legionnaires making use of him. Rogers had seen it. Perhaps he thought Stark was still using him cruelly. It was Loki's responsibility to correct this misconception, but when he tried to speak up and tell them all how kind Stark was, he found his tongue had turned to lead. He missed his moment, as Rogers was still trying to persuade Stark of his point of view.

“I do accept that you  _ think  _ you’re doing the right thing….” Rogers started to say, clearly about to launch into another impassioned defense of Loki's non-existent rights.

Stark yawned theatrically, cutting him off.

“Good,” he said, closing the conversation. “I’m glad you understand. Let’s leave it there before it gets ugly. Anyone who wants to stay is welcome to the guest suite downstairs. Loki, bedtime.”

Loki jerked upright. Stark must have known he was awake, even if the others had not.

“Yes, Sir,” he said at once. He got to his feet before he realized he did not know where to go. Was Stark ordering him to the bedroom down the hall, alone? Or was he to go to Stark’s bed?

Stark saved him from having to ask that question out loud by waving him towards the spacious master suite. He spoke over his shoulder to Rogers and Thor as he guided Loki from the room.

“Romanov’s coming up soon to take the night shift with me. You guys are back on duty in the morning while I get the egg-machine finished. OK?”

"Wait."

Thor jumped up. He pulled Loki back and wrapped him in a warm hug, rubbing his back and even lifting him off his feet. "Good night, brother," he said out loud. Then, under the guise of giving Loki another bear-like hug, he added in an undertone, "You are welcome to sleep with me, if you would prefer."

Loki hugged him back, fiercely, his heart thudding in his chest. Thor's warmth, mental and physical, seeped through to the marrow of his bones. Where had Thor learned such subtlety? Loki did not answer him, though. It was not a risk that he needed to take. He merely held his brother at arms-length and wished him goodnight. That was answer enough.

Before he left, Loki turned to Captain Rogers, who stood awkwardly by, and inclined his head a respectful distance.

“Goodnight, Captain, and thank you.”

Loki did his best to push more meaning into the words, to fatten them up with gratitude and appreciation. Rogers was still the only one who openly questioned his treatment at Stark’s hands. Thor accepted it, even if he did not like it, and Romanov did not show any qualms at all.

Rogers was the only one. Even now, he spoke up against it, spoke up against  _ Stark _ , who had shown himself so powerful as to negotiate with the Grandmaster of Sakaar. Stark, who held the Grandmaster's open offer to call on him at any time. Rogers did not back down from what he thought was right, and that made something twist uncomfortably in Loki’s mind. A memory, perhaps, or hint of the past that he could not place.

Rogers nodded at him, his face tight. “Loki. I’ll be downstairs.”

Stark’s fingers pressed on his arm and Loki allowed himself to be walked down the hallway and into Stark’s bedroom.

He readied himself for bed without thinking about it. The tube of lubricant gel had been placed on the counter next to his toothbrush, so he used it. He was fast and efficient - already he was used to this. It was what Stark wanted from him, and so Loki would comply. He was not like Rogers, to dare to question how he was to be used. He did not even know how Rogers dared, when the evidence of Stark's power was in front of his eyes.  


Even though he had only been alone in the bathroom for a few minutes, Loki's symptoms were starting to flare up. His joints were sore, his head ached, and his eyes burned. He could not stand to be by himself for any longer. It was better not to linger, and so he did not, returning to the bedroom to await his master.

“You can get under the covers,” Stark said as he walked in. He had ducked back out to fetch Loki’s injection - he held the uru needle in his hand. Loki obeyed, pulling the soft covers up over himself, leaving his arm uncovered for his medicine. He was grateful that Stark put the needle in his arm without teasing, or making him ask or even beg for it, as the Grandmaster would have done. Stark was straightforward and Loki was glad of it. He was eager for Stark to join him in the bed, to replace the meager warmth of the blanket with the warmth of his own body.

Stark did not take long to dim the lights and get under the covers, trailing the smell of mint toothpaste. He opened his arms for Loki to scoot over, and Loki did not hesitate, wrapping himself in the soothing sensation of being held.

He could not help the sigh of pleasure that ran through him. To be back in Stark’s arms after even a few minutes of deprivation was heavenly. The secession of pain was so fast that Loki felt as though he were floating, as though he were a cloud, nothing but untouchable vapor.

“Hey, guess what?” Stark nudged Loki to turn over, to be the little spoon, as he had called it the night before. Loki gladly did so, eager for Stark to position him and use him, for his touch to banish the last of Loki’s lingering pain.

But Stark did not make any move to do anything but embrace him. Instead he kept talking, and Loki strained to listen.

“...took your advice, about the water.”

Confused, Loki’s mind frantically churned over what he had forgotten. When had he had any advice worth giving, let alone worth taking?

“I beg your pardon, Sir. I do not recall…”

“Don’t you remember? You told me to act more like a prince and make other people do my work for me? Anyway, Romanov and I set up the  _ Stark Clean Water Information Alliance  _ so people can start to take care of their own problems. We’re going to do medicine next - antibiotics, insulin, asthma drugs, even basics like aspirin. Just information and encouragement. You were right, I can’t do it all.”

Stark sounded pleased, but Loki’s mind was blank. When had he talked about clean water and medicines with Stark? He had no idea. He could barely remember the last few hours, never mind days ago.

Loki had no head for talking. He eased backwards into Stark’s embrace, trying to remind him why he was there, to encourage Stark to take him and send him spinning into blissful sleep. Stark noticed his lack of conversational skill.

“Alright, never mind, we can talk about it later. I guess you’re pretty wiped out.”

Loki made a heroic effort to rouse himself. “I am awake, Sir. I can stay awake, if you wish me too.” For good measure, he wriggled his hips in Stark's lap, his message unmistakable.

Stark huffed, amused. “Just go to sleep, sleepyhead. I think once per day is sufficient to demonstrate how well taken care of you are, don't you?”

“I want to,” Loki said, his eyes drifting closed, exhaustion settling over him like a slow wave of warm water, fighting against the itch under his skin. He did not want to sleep with discomfort still crawling in his bones. It would haunt him in his sleep. He wanted the glorious peace he had woken up with, when Stark had fucked him unconscious that morning. “I want to, Stark. It feels nice and it makes me sleep…”

Loki squirmed as Stark squeezed him from behind, warm breath tickling the back of Loki’s neck as he laughed.

“You need to work on your flattery. You want me to fuck you so you’ll fall asleep?”

“Yes…” Loki was too tired to hide behind his words. He knew it was not up to him, Stark could use him or not, as he pleased, but he was exhausted and his mouth was running faster than his thoughts. “Will you? Please? I made myself ready for you.”

“You’re serious?”

“Of course,” Loki struggled to explain himself, but he could do no better than, “I would not lie to you.”

Stark’s fingers eased under the waistband of Loki’s sleep pants and found the evidence that Loki was telling the truth. He was ready, and all Stark had to do was line up and slide in. Stark paused for a long moment, the calloused pads of his fingers resting on Loki's slick entrance. Loki held his breath. Had he misstepped by preparing himself without being told? His body belonged to Stark, after all. Perhaps Loki needed his master's permission to touch himself in such an intimate manner.

When Stark finally spoke he did not sound angry, he sounded on the verge of either laughing or crying, and Loki did not know which one.

“You really did...OK. OK. This is so fucked up, but I get it. Alright. I'll send you to sleep, if that's what you want. Maybe you'll have good dreams. It would be good if one of us could, at least.”

“Yes, Sir.” Loki exhaled the words, relief washing through him.

“Call me Tony.” Stark circled Loki’s entrance, firm and intent, and a burst of white light shivered through Loki's entire body. “I think we're on a first name basis, seeing as I have my fingers in your ass."

“Yes Tony...as you wish.”

Loki was losing focus. His body was dissolving into the soft surface of the bed as Stark removed his fingers and replaced them with fat head of his cock. Loki's every pain vanished as though it had never been, chased away by cleansing light and the low moan that spilled from his lips. He let go, closing his eyes and falling like a feather. Warm darkness closed over his head even as Stark... _ Tony... _ held his hips and fulfilled his promise, sending Loki to sleep and granting him blissful, beautiful dreams.


	46. Machine

Loki was well used to waking up silently and assessing his situation before he gave any signal that he was conscious. It was safer that way, and it gave him time to prepare himself for what awaited him that day.

He tried it that next morning, returning to consciousness slowly, the lingering pleasure of his encounter with Stark the night before still tingling through his nerves. He began to catalog his situation from behind his closed eyes. He was still in Stark’s bed, he could tell that from the soft mattress, but he did not have a chance to understand more when he was interrupted.

_ “You’re awake.” _

It was Romanov. Loki opened his eyes - there was no fooling her. He had tried it before and failed, one of the many failures of his ill-fated invasion of Midgard.

Romanov was sitting in the bed propped up on pillows, and Loki found himself cuddled next to her, his head resting on her soft breast. Her arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and Loki’s arm wrapped around her waist. He breathed in, suddenly afraid to move, and her scent made his head spin - vanilla and well-polished leather.

“You’re fine,” she said, immediately aware of his tension. “I know you can’t help it. You can stay where you are, take your time.”

Loki wanted to draw back, but at the same time he wanted to stay. The intimate embrace with Romanov was disconcerting, but her skin was warm, and the arm that circled his shoulders was comforting. Underneath, was the uncertainty of what Romanov wanted from him now that he was awake.

He reminded himself that, of course, what Romanov did with him was not his decision. She was in bed with him, meaning that Stark had obviously given Loki to her, at least for the morning. He only hoped that she would not want something that he was not able to give. His tongue was skilled enough, or it had been pleasing enough for women in the past, and if that was what she wanted he would count himself lucky.

Loki's head was starting to hurt, the uncertainty of what to do next walking over his skin with needle-like feet. He had to ask.

"Lady Romanov, how may I be of service?"

“Nope.” She cut him off, clear and decisive. “That’s not why I’m here. I'm just keeping you company.”

Loki raised his head, meeting Romanov’s clear blue eyes. “It is no trouble,” he said, in case she would change her mind. “I would be glad to perform for you.”

She tapped her fingers on his shoulder, firm and fast. “I said no. Don’t ask me again. Are you ready? Tony’s waiting for us in the lab.”

Loki sat up, concerned. Stark was waiting for him! Why had Romanov let him sleep when he should have been performing his duties and pleasing his master?

“Don’t worry, he said to bring you down whenever you woke up.”

Romanov had an uncanny ability to read his mind, or so it seemed, but Loki did not have time to dwell on it. He scrambled out of the bed and hesitated before asking, “Shall I dress?” He was wearing his loose sleeping clothes, and he did not know if that was appropriate attire for a trip to Stark’s lab.

Romanov rolled out of the bed too, she was wearing tight leggings and a loose tunic-like top. She quickly stepped into her waiting shoes and laced them up.

“You’re fine like that,” she said, looking him up and down. “You’ll have to change for the procedure anyway.”

Loki’s gut twisted.  _ The procedure. _ Romanov could only be referring to the removal of the crogall eggs from his intestines. They had been there for too long, feeding on his flesh and altering his body to suit themselves. He could almost cry with relief that it was going to happen, if he was not also terrified that there would be some reason to deny him. Stark was giving him a generous boon, and if he wanted to he could make Loki do whatever he wanted in exchange. He could extract promises from him, or force him to perform favors for him. That, Loki half-expected and could easily accept, but far worse was the possibility that this was nothing but an elaborate joke. He may arrive at the lab to be met with Stark’s laughter and be told that he was going to be forced to birth the creatures in his belly. He had no choice in the matter and only Stark’s benevolence to rely on.

_ He will not refuse me,  _ Loki thought desperately to himself.  _ I have been good for him. I have given myself freely, I have never refused him or disobeyed him. _

But in his heart, he knew that that was not enough. All of Loki’s obedience and submission was nothing more than Stark’s right, and it was his right to make this decision as well.

“Let’s go.”

Loki followed Romanov to the door, surprised to find it was still early. The sun rising through the drifting smoke that hung over the devastated city. He looked away, too anxious and nervous to consider anything but his own situation. Rogers and Thor were not there. Maybe that was why Stark wanted to start early, so that there would be no witnesses to what he made Loki do in exchange.

The elevator took them a short distance down, then Romanov walked them through a series of secure doors until they reached Stark’s lab. Outside the glass door, Loki paused when Romanov put her hand on his arm, the warmth more comforting than she knew.

“It’s going to be OK, Loki.”

He bowed, unsure what else to do. “Thank you, Lady Romanov.”

The door opened, and they entered.

The lab was chaotic, and Loki stared around, bewildered at the size of the place and the variety of activities that seemed to be happening side by side. Cogs and gears shared spaces with delicate electronics. Cables ran haphazardly through the room. Machines moved independently, sparks and heat shooting out from whatever they were building. Right in front of them, a mechanical arm moved around what Loki recognized as a half-built legionnaire. Unconsciously, Loki stepped back. He knew what those things were capable of, and he had no wish to be caught in their metal clutches again.

“This way.”

Romanov steered him through the chaos and through a series of hanging plastic sheets, until they arrived at the space Loki knew must be for him. It was much cleaner than the outer area, for one thing, the scent of antiseptic in the air. The other giveaway was the padded table in the center of the space, complete with stirrups for his feet and straps to hold him down. His nails dug into his palms. Loki had not considered that the process to remove the eggs might be less than comfortable, but now, faced with the restraints that would be used on him, he was forced to face it.

He stepped forward.

No matter what, he wanted this and he would not shy from it. If it would be painful, or if Stark would have his fun with him while he was strapped down with his legs spread, Loki did not care. He would pay any price Stark demanded. He would fasten the restraints himself if that is what was required. He would not be a brood-host for his rapists, and he would do whatever he had to do to escape that fate.

“Hey, there you are.”

Stark walked through the hanging plastic on the other side of the table. Behind that sheet, Loki could make out the silhouette of another robotic arm, similar to the one assembling the legionnaire behind him. This one had two appendages, one ending in cup-like pincers, the other a bulbous probe.

Loki forced down his nerves, and bowed. “Good morning, Sir.”

Stark looked at him. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Tony?”

“I thought….” Loki had assumed that order only applied when Stark was fucking him, as he had seemed to prefer that more intimate form of address at that time, but Loki at once corrected himself. This was not a time to argue, or to be anything less that perfectly obedient and respectful. “Yes, of course. I beg your pardon, Tony.”

“No worries. Hop up here and I’ll scan you. I’m pretty sure we’re ready to go but let's take a look, shall we?”

Loki walked over to the table, the hard floor of the lab cold under his bare feet. Stark had not given him any shoes to wear since he had arrived. It was entirely his right, of course, to dress Loki to his liking, but Loki found himself wishing at least for some socks.

The table was actually more of a bed. It had a heavy single column at the base, and the surface was in three parts that looked as through they adjusted independently. Once he was strapped down on it, Stark would be able to position him as he pleased. It reminded Loki unpleasantly of the box, the similarities echoing in his twisting nerves. He sat on the edge of it. The padded surface was soft under his thighs, and Stark lifted one end, urging Loki to lie back in a reclining pose. He was still dressed, and he had not been told to put his feet in the raised stirrups, but still his heart rate increased.

“Do you want me to get Thor?” Romanov spoke into the tension of the room, and Stark looked up as though surprised she was still there.

There was a long silence while Loki waited for Stark’s response, his fingers pressed to the soft surface of the bed, trying to hide his anxiety.

“Well, do you?” Stark was holding the scanning device, tapping his fingers on his chest.

Loki realized that Romanov had been asking  _ him. _

He stared, uncertain, but Stark just waited, holding the scanner under his arm. Loki looked over at Romanov, but she was no help either. She raised one eyebrow and waited. It was up to Loki.

Did he want his brother here? Thor could provide some comfort, perhaps, if the procedure was painful, but the risk was that he would try to stop it, that he would think Loki should not suffer or worse, that he would be angry with Stark. More, if Stark wished to claim his rights, to be rewarded for his benevolence right here in the lab, Loki did not want his brother there to see it.

He shook his head. “No thank you.” He glanced up at Romanov, and she tipped her head to the side.

“What about me?”

Loki cleared his throat. “I would not want to take up your time, Lady Romanov.”

Romanov gave him an understanding nod. “Tell Friday if you want me to come back. I’ll be just upstairs.” She vanished through the hanging sheets of plastic, leaving Loki alone with Stark.

Loki lay back on the bed, somehow more relaxed now that it was just Stark and him. None of the others could stop Stark from doing what he thought was necessary, and it would be easier if there were no arguments or confrontations. Loki would submit, and Stark would rid him of the crogall eggs. It was a bargain Loki was very eager to make.

Stark did not take long with the scanner. The image showed what he already suspected - the drugs he had injected into Loki’s arm had succeeded in dislodging a large number of the eggs. It was not clear if they were all ready to be extracted, especially not the larger ones clustered high up in Loki’s guts, but enough of them were ready. Even if they only got half of them out today, it would an immense relief. Loki’s stretched-out belly was uncomfortable and burdensome, his guts ached, and he could not eat. Worse was the constant reminder of how he had gotten to this state - the memory of being suspended in the breeding rooms with a numberless parade of crogall stuffing him full of their parasitic eggs. He shuddered, looking away from the projected image.

Stark left the scanner active and ducked back through the plastic sheet. He returned a few moments later with the robotic arm that Loki had glimpsed earlier. It was on a wheeled base, and seemed to be driving itself. Stark only guided it with light touches until it stopped at the foot of the bed. Loki knew what was coming.

“You still wanna do this?”

Loki nodded, this throat too tight to speak. Stark handed him a gown made of a light papery material.

“OK, put this on and we’ll get started.” Loki climbed off the table and Stark looked away as he took off his soft pajamas and pulled on the scratchy gown. It had no warmth to it, and Loki’s head started to ache. He longed for a comforting touch, but Stark was examining his machine and not paying him any attention.

“Ready?” Stark looked over his shoulder and Loki nodded again. Stark gestured to the bed. “Up you get, feet go here, you get the picture.”

Loki did as he was told and climbed back onto the table. It was a lot less comfortable with only the thin layer of paper covering him. He took a calming breath and lowered his feet into the stirrups. The supports under his calves encouraged his knees to fall open, and he tried to relax and let it happen. He breathed, laying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, studying the gantry with fixed lights and power cables running over his head.

He told himself he was being foolish. Stark had seen everything before. He had seen Loki stripped naked and spread for his use - this was not new.

“Scoot down a bit,” Stark told him. He activated a lever that folded the bottom third of the bed down, leaving Loki’s ass near the edge of the middle third, his legs raised and spread. Loki’s lungs burned, and he realized he was holding his breath. He could not remember how to move himself down on the bed, and the light above him seemed to brighten, fixing him in place like a bug under a pin. He opened his mouth, trying to inhale, but nothing came, his muscles were locked in place and he could not remember how to unlock them.

“Hey, OK, OK, it’s OK. You’re OK.” Stark was by his side an instant later, warm hands on his, thumbs rubbing slow circles on his palms. “Deep breath now, there you go.” Stark took a deep breath, showing Loki how to do it, and as easily as that he could breathe again.

Loki gasped, his lungs on fire, his hands holding Stark's as though he would never let go. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled whimper.

Stark rubbed his hands, the touch warming and grounding. “Do you want to do this another time?”

Loki shook his head. No, he wanted to do this now! He wanted Stark to fasten the restraints and position him as he needed and activate his machine. He wanted the eggs gone, but the muscle-memory of being in his position, of being on his back with his legs up, was flooding his brain with panic, and he could not stop it. He grabbed one of the straps that hung from the bed, yanked on it and tried to make Stark understand him. He needed Stark to make him do it. He needed to be forced to comply because he was too weak to do it on his own.

“Please,” he managed to say, “Please.”

Stark ignored the strap, and Loki’s broken plea.

“OK, let’s take a break here. Sit up, put your feet down. Just breathe for a minute.”

Loki did as he was told, and when he was sitting up, everything seemed to fall back into place. The lights stopped blinding him, the room stopped spinning, he remembered how to breathe and how to talk. Stark held his shoulders, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Stark seemed a little pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow that made Loki wretchedly guilty. He was causing Stark stress, when no doubt he wanted to get this over with and get on with his important business. Perhaps he would, if Loki asked, strap him down and let the machine do what it was made to do. Loki would get through it. He did not mind being left alone if the end result was that the eggs were gone. Perhaps if he passed out he could stay unconscious through the procedure and wake up when it was over.

Stark took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“This isn't working out for you, is it? You want to try it another way?”

“I can do it,” Loki said, terrified that Stark was going to take back his offer. “I can do it, please use the straps. I will not complain, or you can gag me. I can do it! Please do not make me birth these...things!” Loki dug his hands into the flesh of his belly, the round shapes of the eggs rolling under his palms like large peas in a cloth bag. It was disgusting, and Loki wanted nothing more than for it not to be happening to him for a moment longer.

“I’m not going to do that,” Stark reassured him. “But I’m also not going to tie you up and let you freak out for however long this takes. I’ve got another idea.”

Stark adjusted the bed again, raising the bottom third parallel with the floor but lower than the rest of the bed. “OK, kneel here.”

Loki saw at once what Stark intended. He twisted awkwardly onto his hands and knees and backed up until he was kneeling on the lowered section of the bed, his chest on the higher portion, his head resting on his folded arms.

“How’s that?”

“It is...good,” Loki said, surprised to find that it  _ was _ good. It was better than being on his back, at least. The lights were not blinding him, and the position on his knees did not evoke the same terror as being on his back. Even though he was just as vulnerable like this, his bare ass exposed and available, it did not feel the same.

“Let's give it a shot then. Ready?”

Stark waited for Loki’s nod before he vanished from his line of sight, the low hum of the machine filling the space a moment later.

Loki raised his head. “You will not restrain me?” he asked, unsure now if he wanted the straps or not.

Stark came back to his side, crouching by the bed so he could make eye contact. “Do you need me to? Or can you do it without? I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

Stark rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder and warmth radiated out from that spot, filling Loki’s aching joints like balm.

Loki sensed that Stark did not want to have to bind him. Perhaps he did not want to make it unpleasant or something that was being forced on Loki against his will. If this was something Loki wanted, that he willingly held still for, he would owe Stark a greater debt when it was done.

“I will do it without.”

“Good boy,” Stark said, rewarding Loki with a kind smile and one more squeeze of his shoulder.

Stark pulled on thin plastic gloves and applied lubricant gel between Loki's buttocks. The hum of the machine increased in volume and a moment later something cool and smooth nudged at his entrance.

"Ready?"

Loki took a deep breath and let it out.

"Yes," he said, "I am ready."


	47. Extraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, I hope you're all doing well! Sorry I have been a bit quiet in the comments and notes lately, I am still reading all of your comments and they keep me motivated to keep writing. Thank you so much for your support, you guys are the best!

Loki was far from ready, and he realized it as soon as the probe pushed forward. The sensation as it touched him was exactly like the automated plug that had cleaned and prepared him while he was in the box. It was the same hard, unyielding material, the same smooth, unstoppable motion, and Loki could not stop the horrified whimper that escaped his lips. His fingers clawed at the soft padding of the bed and he jerked forward. He tried to evade the thing’s inexorable push, but it followed him, the tip of the probe sliding between his buttocks again, a hunter seeking its target.

“Stop.”

Loki froze in place, but Stark had been talking to the machine. Stark gave him a narrow-eyed look but he didn’t bother to ask what was wrong because it was obvious. Loki’s eyes swam with tears. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding as though it would explode in his chest. He did not dare move. Stark was angry with him for wasting his time, and Loki did the only thing he could think of. He held his assigned position - on his knees, bent over, his intimate core raised and displayed - and begged.

“Please bind me,” he blurted out. “Please, Stark. _Tony_. I want this but I just can’t. But I need to. Please help me.”

Stark sighed. He must have reached the same conclusion as Loki, and he wasn’t going to argue about it.

“If I had any sedative that I thought would work on you I would try it, but it was hard enough when I thought you were Asgardian. I have zero idea what drugs would work on a Jotun.”

Shock flooded through Loki’s mind, and shame churned in his belly. Stark knew he was Jotun? He knew of his heritage, the disgrace of his birth, that he belonged to that race of monsters? Despite their differences, he had not thought Thor would expose him in such a manner. Loki hung his head, hiding his face in his folded arms. No wonder Stark had so few qualms about using him as he did. He knew he was not Thor’s true brother. He knew that he was not even of the same race.

“I am sorry,” he said. Tears dripped over his bare arms, emotion welling up under him like an earthquake under the ocean, sending everything above it rolling into chaos. “I am sorry. I did not intend to hide my true nature from you. I know you must be angry with me for my deception and I will accept whatever punishment you decide I deserve. Please, Stark, I beg you, I beg you, I would have told you myself but…”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who told me you were Jotun. Don’t you remember?”

Loki snapped out of his spiral of panic and humiliation. “I what?”

“A few days ago. I guess you were out of your mind on snuggle hormones - you told me you were Jotun and that Odin took you as a baby. You really don’t remember?”

Loki searched his memories of the past days, but all that was there was the memory of the hunger of his skin, and the comfort of Stark’s touch. He shook his head. “It was not Thor?” he asked, his voice small.

“It was you. You sang to me too, do you remember that?”

“I...sang to you?”

“Yeah. You have a nice voice." Stark smiled at him, a flash of warmth and kindness in the turbulent ocean of his memories. A moment later the smile was gone, replaced by Stark's much more common anxious frown. "I guess it’s not too surprising. Trauma will really mess with your memory. And you have trauma all the way down, some of which is my fault. We can talk about it later, but do you still wanna get this done?”

“Yes,” Loki said. His head was spinning but he knew that for certain. “Yes I do. Please.”

“Me too. Here are the options. We can use the restraints, we can try out some options for sedatives, or we can use _this_.” He tapped the obedience disk in Loki’s neck.

Instinctively, Loki slipped his hand over the disk, as though hiding the disk from sight could protect him if Stark decided to force his obedience that way. For the first time, Loki noticed that Stark was not wearing the control device around his neck. Thinking back, he realized that Stark had not once worn it since the Grandmaster's departure. Seeing the confusion and uncertainty on his face, Stark explained.

“Friday has it. Remember I told you that she’s monitoring you, right?”

“The cameras,” Loki said weakly. “Friday is monitoring the cameras.”

“Yeah, she is." Stark ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up more than it already was. "Listen, I know you’ve had a rough time of it Loki, but you’re still kinda wanted for war-crimes on Earth. I can’t exactly let you roam about the penthouse without supervision. I don’t actually think you’re gonna try anything, but I can't take any chances on it. So, Friday has the controller and she'll use it if she has to. Her scans show this fucked-up little thing is wired into your nervous system. It can do a lot more than hurt you, although it does do that very well. It’s connected to your optic nerves, your auditory cortex, your hypothalamus - or rather, I assume that’s what those areas of your brain are. Did you know about any of that?”

Loki stared at his hands. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice so low Stark had to step closer to hear it. “Yes, I knew. He used it to blind me, to deafen me. He was the only one I could see. His voice was the only one I could hear. Maybe he did more, I don’t know. It's hard to tell what was real.”

“That’s fucked up. I'm sorry that happened to you.”

Stark rubbed Loki’s back, long, soothing strokes that calmed his shuddering nerves.

“It’s up to you. I can try to find a drug that will knock you out. I can knock you out with _this_ -" he gestured to the obedience disk "- or we can fasten the straps and keep going.”

“The straps,” Loki said at once. He would have tried to fasten them himself if he could remember how to move his hands and fingers. The thought of Stark finding new ways to control him with the disk was unsettling. He was already so constrained. He did not take a step that his master did not approve of. He did his very best to obey and he could not stand the thought that that was not enough. That he could be a literal puppet and if that was Stark's desire, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“You’re sure?” Stark did not look too happy with Loki’s choice, but he nodded and did not overrule him. “OK. If you need to stop, you have to tell me. Deal?”

Loki nodded. “Yes,” he croaked, his mouth as dry as the dusty wastes of Svartalfheim. “Yes. I will tell you if I need to stop.”

The broad straps were reinforced with metal cable, and Loki could tell that they were inescapable as Stark fastened them one by one. If he had his magic, he would make short work of them, but as he was, weakened and tamed, the restraints were as effective as Odin's own shackles.

When Stark was done, Loki was bound to the bed with straps around his waist, his shoulders, his thighs, and his ankles. Stark did not tie his hands, retaining the perception that Loki was free to end this if he chose to, but in reality he had no choice but to endure it. Loki needed the crogall parasites gone from his body, and if this was the way, Loki would do it.

Loki swallowed and tried to moisten his dry lips.

“Stark. May I please have something to bite on?”

“Uh...sure. Hold on.” Stark vanished through the hanging plastic, leaving Loki alone on the table. A few distant sounds told Loki that Stark was still in the lab somewhere, but the faint noises of rummaging through cabinets did not drown out the hum of the machine behind him. It still lurked there, ready and waiting to push inside him as soon as Stark activated it.

“OK, try this.” Stark held out a curved piece of plastic, and Loki examined it, unsure what it was. “It’s a mouth-guard. I have a bunch of them from when I was first testing suit designs. You bite down on it.” Stark took it back and rotated it, holding it in front of Loki’s mouth for him to bite. The mouth-guard had a little give to it. it was enough that Loki could clench his teeth without them grinding together, but it still allowed him to talk.

“Thank you,” he said, slurring slightly. He was a little uncertain of the mouth-guard. He would rather have a gag that did not allow him to speak, which would mean he had no choice but to endure the machine’s treatment. But he had not asked for a gag, he had asked for something to bite on, and Stark had obliged. He could not change his mind now. He had delayed long enough and stark had better things to do that chase after the whims of his slave.

“I also thought you might like this.” Stark had a blanket slung over his shoulder, a slightly ragged one that had seen better days, unlike the clean and soft bedding of the penthouse. “If you’re cold…” He held up the blanket, and Loki would have grabbed for it if he had not been tied down.

“Yes, please,’ he managed. The sight of the blanket made him even more conscious of his position, kneeling on the bed, his paper gown up around his waist. Whatever scraps of dignity he may have tried to hold onto were long gone.

Stark draped the blanket over his back and shoulders. Loki reached with his fingertips and tugged the blanket higher, up over his shoulders, tucking it up around his chin. He did not think Stark would allow him to pull it up over his head, but he covered himself with it as much as he dared.

“Thank you.” he said again, emotion welling up again that Stark had been so kind to him, that he cared for his comfort even though he did not have to. If he said anything more, he was going to cry again, and that was only going to delay things even more.

“I’ll be right here,” Stark said. “We can take a break whenever you want.”

Loki nodded, biting on the mouth-guard, taking deep breaths. The restraints were already working their magic, sending him into a hazy, compliant state where his wishes did not matter. All he had to do was endure.

With a metallic click, the sleek metal probe pushed forward again. This time Loki twitched but he could not pull away. He was bound and positioned as his master desired, and the relentless machine would not be denied. Loki's flesh parted before it like the petals of a flower. The thing pushed through the resistance of his muscles without care, without slowing, and once it was inside there was no stopping it. Loki closed his eyes and clamped down on the mouth-guard. The bright blue projection of his insides was still hovering in the air but Loki did not want to look at it. He wanted this to be over but the only way for that to happen was for him to submit himself to the machine and let it do it’s work.

Loki gasped and squirmed as the probe expanded inside him. He had not asked Stark how the machine worked and now it was too late. However it worked, Loki was in its clutches now and he could only hope that it would not be too painful.

The sound of the machine changed and another noise joined the low hum, a slow pulsing throb.

There was a soft pop and Stark said, “Alright, one down!”

Loki looked up, surprised that the extraction was painless. Stark was watching the scanner, but he caught Loki’s glance and explained, pointing up at the image.

“These little ones are going to come fast. They’re pretty much completely detached, they probably would have come by themselves in a day or two. Once we get this batch done it’s not going to be so easy.”

Loki nodded. Of course, it would not be so easy for him. It never was.

The next half-hour was, as Stark had said, relatively easy. Loki’s muscles stiffened and started to ache from the position he was bound in, but he did not complain about it - not when he heard that soft pop every few minutes as another of the parasitical Crogall spawn was removed from his body.

Stark offered him the chance to take a break after the first batch, but he declined. They were not done - they were only just beginning. He wanted to keep going for as long as he could stand it.

Stark checked on him every few minutes, but most of the time he was moving about the enclosed area where Loki could not see. He was monitoring his machine, moving racks and trays, muttering to himself and refocusing the scanner as the probe inched deeper into Loki’s body. Loki did his part by staying still and quiet. Let Stark think of him as a laboratory experiment. It would be easier for both of them that way.

The second hour was harder. The scan, when Loki dared to peek at it, showed that the eggs higher up in his intestines were larger. Although they were no longer embedded in his guts they still clung to the walls like limpets. Stark’s machine was able to extract them, but Loki felt them pulling away from the walls of his intestines, a tearing, cramping sensation that had him clutching his hands in his hair and taking deep, gulping breaths.

 _This is not as bad as when they went in_ , Loki told himself, and it was true. When they had gone in, Loki had been alone with his rapists. Now, he was with Stark, and that made all the difference.

When that hour was over, Stark insisted that they pause. He unsnapped the restraints and helped Loki sit up, giving him a bottle of water and a damp towel to wipe his face.

For the first time, Loki took a good look at the machine that had been working inside him. The thing was well made. It had a squat, heavy base supporting the flexible arms and attachments. A thick, clear tube was connected to the probe, but when Loki followed it with his eyes, it ended abruptly, dangling from the base, disconnected.

Loki frowned, not seeing what he had expected to see.

“Stark,” he said, trying to stay calm. Surely there was a good explanation for the omission. He would not jump to conclusions.

"Stark. What have you done with the eggs? Where are they?"


	48. Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I did not expect to take so long to update, thank you so much for your patience and for checking up on me in the comments. Work has been pushing me very hard, which does not give me much brain-space to write, and also next weekend I am working the polls in the US election which is stressing me out a lot. Argh! But I will keep writing this story! I wake up at 3am thinking of ideas, Loki is moving into a new phase but his troubles are not over yet :) Thank you for reading and comments, I love you guys!

“Erm, you don’t need to worry about that right now.”

When Stark spoke those words, every neuron in Loki’s mind fired at once. He was swamped in a maelstrom of emotion - fear being the primary one, followed closely by panic. Loki did not know what Stark was doing, but it could only be something terrible. Visions of re-implantation swam in his head, of hatchlings gnawing at his flesh, of the breeding room, of oviposters worming their way into his body. What was he planning? Where were the eggs? They were a threat hanging over Loki's head, a dark tide without end that could pull him under at any moment.

“I can do more,” Loki blurted out, his hands clenched, tearing at the paper robe that covered him. He would do anything to avert the terror of Stark’s unknown purpose, and he had to ensure that Stark knew it.

“I can do more for you. I will fulfill your desires. I will never question you. I will sleep on the floor at your feet. I will be your attendant; I will bathe and dress you. I will cook and serve your meals. I will clean your home. I will dedicate every moment of my life to your comfort and pleasure, Stark, I swear it, please…”

“Loki, stop!” Stark’s firm tone cut him off, and Loki’s teeth clicked as he shut his mouth, staring wide eyed at his master.

Stark hid his face in his hands, his shoulders rising and falling with three slow, deliberate breaths before he looked up again.

“Loki, calm down. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that. The eggs are in those containers.”

Start pointed to a set of heavy cylinders lined up on the other side of the plastic sheet.

“Don’t worry about it for now, we'll talk more about it later. OK?”

Loki nodded slowly. It was clear that Stark did not want to explain himself. And why should he? Loki was his property, and the eggs inside him were as well. Stark could do as he pleased with both.

The paper robe had disintegrated under Loki's clenching fists, leaving him with only the blanket over his hunched shoulders. Stark looking him over, the seed of an idea sparking in his eyes.

“Here’s an idea to take your mind off those eggs. You want those off?”

He pointed at the rings in Loki’s nipples, gesturing up and down to take in the rings in the ears and genitals too.

Loki stared at him. Was Stark offering some kind of bargain? He would remove the gold rings from Loki's flesh, if he would do...what? If he would stop asking about the eggs?

Stark had no need to make bargains with him, Loki was well aware of that. He could just order him to keep his mouth shut and punish him with the obedience disk, or worse, if he didn’t obey.

But, Loki realized with an urgent lurch of his heart, he  _ did  _ want the rings out. He wanted them gone. They were the Grandmaster’s souvenirs, marks decorating his flesh showing who owned him. Loki wanted it all gone - the eggs, the rings, the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the tattoos on his face, the implants in his jaw and the unnatural sheen of his white eyes. He wanted it all gone, and he would pay Stark’s price to remove even a part of the mutilations he had suffered.

“Yes,” he said, forcing the words past the sudden dryness of his throat. “Yes, please.”

“OK, sure. Finish your water.”

Stark vanished behind the plastic curtain, banging and clattering around the room while Loki obediently drank the bottle of water that he had been given. Stark was only a few minutes, returning with a heavy cutting tool on a long cord.

“You should lie down.”

Loki laid down, the blanket falling away and leaving him naked, laid out before his master as he has been many times before. He picked up the mouth guard and slipped it back over his teeth, and only then remembered the heavy piercing in his tongue. He wanted that one gone too, and so he spat the curved plastic back into his hand and sat up again.

“Will you please remove this one too? Please?”

He opened his mouth, and Stark took his jaw in one hand and tipped his head up to the light, examining the metal curiously.

“Sure, why not.”

Loki sat unmoving, hardly able to believe that Stark had not increased his price. Midgardians were strange, leaving so much unsaid and unstated, even when making bargains. It was confusing, as Loki did not know exactly what he had agreed to in exchange for this favor, but still he did not balk at it.

“Open wide.” Stark held the cutters in steady hands, positioning the blades against Loki’s tongue. Loki’s eyes watered, the memory of the automated arms that had done this to him filling his mind. It was different, of course, instead of the whoops and jeers of the crowd he had Stark’s calm breathing and intent gaze, and instead of the brutal dildo holding him in place, Loki’s own will did the job.

“Don’t move,” Stark warned. He slowly pulled a trigger and with a soft hum the blades were forced closed, severing the base of the piercing with one, long, smooth slice. Loki spat out the top half, the heavy weight that vibrated at his master’s command. Stark had to help him with the base, easing it out of the meat of his tongue and dropping it into a metal bowl.

Loki closed his mouth, tears springing to his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. “Thank you.”

He did not care that he had forfeited the right to know the fate of the eggs. His mouth felt light, and his tongue was his own again.

“Lie down. Let’s get the rest.”

Loki lay still as Stark made short work of the rings in his ears and nipples. Without ceremony, he reversed the modifications of Loki's body, making him more into his old self, before he had become the Grandmaster’s plaything. The occasional warm brush of Stark's hands kept Loki calm enough to stay still, even as the tension of isolation was ramping back up. Loki had been without the comfort of touch for too long, but he was determined to endure it for as long as it took to get the Grandmaster’s decorations off his body.

“Hmm.”

Loki opened his eyes to see Stark staring at his cock, a thoughtful look on his face. The gold ring in the tip was close to his flesh, and Stark’s blades were sharp and powerful. Despite himself, Loki felt the urge to cover himself with his hands.

“OK, why don’t you help me out here.”

Loki realized what Stark intended. He wrapped his hand around his cock and found as good an angle as he could to present his most tender flesh to Stark’s motorized blades. He trusted Stark to do this, but still he closed his eyes as the blades whirred closed.

“Hold still.” Stark set the cutting device on the padded bed and carefully eased the pieces of the ring through the tip of Loki's cock, his hands sure and steady. Loki bit his lip as the jagged edge dragged against him, but a moment later it was done and that ring joined the others in the metal dish. Loki almost asked Stark if he knew what kind of metal it was, but he stopped himself. There was still one ring to go, and Loki did not want to ask questions. He was not sure of the terms of the bargain Stark had struck with him. Was he to stop asking about the eggs? Or to stop asking questions of his master at all? Loki was not sure, and he could not even ask without risking breaking his new rules.

Loki kept his mouth shut and parted his legs when Stark told him too, to access the final ring. He was not even forced to use the hated stirrups. Loki stared up at the gantry lights, numb and long past humiliation, legs spread wide, holding his balls out of the way as Stark set his blades against the final ring.

A bright _ting_ rang out as Stark dropped it in the metal bowl.

“All done. Feel better?”

Loki nodded, no longer surprised that Stark did not take the opportunity to claim his rights. Loki was laid out naked for him, but still he did not take him. Loki would of course be most accommodating, and Stark had every right to a show of gratitude for his good deed, but he did not seem interested,

“Thank you,” Loki said, struggling to sit up. He was sure that the words were inadequate. He owed Stark more, far more, but he had no idea what it might be. His only currency was himself, his body and his obedience, which he was already bound to give to Stark completely.

“No problem,” Stark replied, setting the cutters aside. He gave Loki a long look, and he lowered his gaze, hunched over, the need for touch shivering through his skin, clawing at him like a living creature.

“You want to keep going?”

Stark pointed at the extraction machine, and Loki nodded. He had no choice. He had to shed this skin the Grandmaster had forced him into. It was like a too-tight dragon-hide stitched over his own flesh, it was like a sack to drown a kitten in. Loki needed to escape it, and Stark could help him.

Loki tried not to show his increasing discomfort as he moved, his joints sore and aching, grinding with sand and dust. He put himself back on his hands and knees and presented his ass for Stark’s machine, or for Stark himself, whichever he decided he preferred.

“Yes,” he said, his voice a bare whisper, his body a raw nerve. “I want to continue. Please.”


	49. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my darlings, early voting starts tomorrow morning for me and I will be working long days until the polls close on Tuesday night. Think of me, if you hear of any craziness going on! I will be doing my best to help everyone vote and get their votes counted. Hope you enjoy this chapter, there will be a bit of a gap before the next.  
> Love you guys!

They could not remove all the eggs that day.

As the machine crept further up into Loki’s guts, the process of extracting the eggs took longer and grew more painful. By the end, Loki was weeping into the blanket, held in place by the restraints as the mechanical arm probed him so deeply that he could almost taste it.

Stark stopped the machine not long after Loki started crying, despite Loki’s pleas for him to continue. Loki had worked so hard, he had suffered the machine all day, his guts cramping and pulsing with agony. He could not stand to leave the job incomplete, but Stark would not be moved.

“They’re not ready. You did great, really great, Loki. We got most of them, but that last batch is going to need another day or two. If I force it, I’m going to be pulling out half your intestine as well.”

Loki twisted his head to look up at the scanner. The last batch of eggs had been the first ones implanted - Kuuth’s eggs. He shuddered, that first horror still with him - Kera’s ovipositor worming its way inside him and depositing the eggs, followed by Kuuth ramming his cock in to fertilize them, over and over, all while Loki hung from the ceiling in the breeding position, helpless and sobbing with pain and shame.

“Tomorrow?” Loki asked, before he could stop himself.

Stark shrugged and released the straps that held him in place. “We’ll see if they’re ready,” he replied, non-committal, and Loki knew better than to push for more answers.

Although the restraints were gone, Loki held his kneeling position while Stark gave him his shot. Even when that was done, he did not move. He was exhausted, his limbs heavy and weak, and here on the padded bed with his head resting on his folded arms, he almost felt that he could fall asleep.

Stark rested his hand on Loki’s back. The warmth of it spread through him, easing the aches and pains that had crept back under his skin throughout the course of the day. Loki exhaled, his eyes drifting closed, calmed and comforted. This had been a good day. No matter his discomfort, his entire lack of dignity, his sobs and his tears, this had been a good day, and it was because of Stark.

Loki summoned the energy to wriggle his hips, glancing up at Stark under his eyelashes. He did not know what time it was, but he was sure Stark had not had him that day, and here he was - well positioned and ready. Plus, if he could entice Stark to make use of him, he would not have to get up for at least another ten minutes.

Stark just laughed at Loki's attempted seduction, a snort that seemed to catch him by surprise and drew a genuine smile to his drawn face. He shook his head.

“No offense Loki, but I’ve seen enough of your ass for today.”

“My mouth, then?” Loki was tired, and pain still lingered in his body, but he was eager to be of use. It was his responsibility to fulfill his unspoken bargain with Stark, to protect himself and Stark from the Grandmaster’s spite.

A flicker crossed Stark’s face, and he shook his head again. “No. Not now.”

Loki hung his head, disappointed. There was nothing further he could do. Stark did not want him, and that was that.

Stark wiped a hand over his face, exhaustion seeping from his pores, his rare smile already gone.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

It was Loki’s turn to smile at that, a variation of the excuses he had given to dozens of courtly ladies and visiting noblewomen. As lovely as they were, Loki knew he was not right for them. His desires led him in another direction, another element of strangeness about him that he could never shake off. Just as he had not desired those women, Stark did not desire him. Not without time to mentally prepare, or perhaps the photograph of his wife for him to look at, rather than look at Loki himself.

“I understand,” he said. And he did. He was grateful that Stark had been able to keep the pretense going as long as he had. He sat up, and carefully phrased an offer that may be worth the risk of speaking it.

“I can change my appearance, if you wish me to.”

Stark gave him a sharp look, pointing at the obedience disk. “I already told you I’m not taking that thing out.”

‘You do not have to. I am not asking for that. You have the controller, and fine control of the functions is possible. The crogall used it to restore my sight and hearing, you could use it to allow me to make myself more pleasing to you.”

“It’s not that, Loki.”

Loki gave him a rueful smile.

“Please, Tony. You do not need to flatter me. I have seen myself in a mirror.”

His voice broke on the words, distress welling up from nowhere, suddenly choking him.

“I know … I know I am not desirable.”

Loki forced the words out, the vision of his own disfigured appearance haunting him. In the wrinkled plastic that surrounded them, he could see himself, blurred and distorted. White eyes, tattoos, the horror that lurked in his mouth. At least the piercings were gone now, and his belly no longer bulged obscenely. It would not take much to glamor over the cracks and present himself far more appealingly to Stark. Or perhaps mere cosmetic improvements would not be enough.

”I can appear female if you prefer. I will do whatever you want.”

“Hey, will you listen to me? I said it’s not that.”

Stark sighed and leaned on the bed next to where Loki sat, staring through the plastic just as Loki was doing. They remained in silence for a long minute. Loki waited patiently for Stark to explain what was wrong with him, so that he could fix it and Stark could make use of him as the Grandmaster wanted him to.

What Stark actually said, pushed all thoughts of his appearance out of his head.

“I miss Pepper.”

Loki knew at once that Pepper must be the smiling woman whose photograph watched over Stark at night. The beautiful red-haired guardian of Stark’s bedroom. Loki also knew, from the helpless sadness in Stark’s voice, that she was gone. She was one of the four billion Midgardian lives lost to Thanos’ madness.

No wonder Stark was willing to do anything it took to reverse that damage. He wanted to bring back four billion of his people, and to bring back his wife.

“I am sorry,” Loki said, daring to reach out and touch Stark’s shoulder. Not selfishly, this time, not to feel the warmth and comfort of his master's touch, but to  _ give  _ comfort instead, as if such a thing were possible. As if the great and powerful Tony Stark of Midgard would accept comfort from the likes of him.

“The Grandmaster said he will reverse it,” Loki ventured. “She will come back, they will all come back…”

Stark shook his head, his hand over his face. Loki may have imagined it, but it seemed that Stark leaned towards him a few millimeters. He rested his hand a little more firmly on Stark's shoulder, and leaned in his direction, as well.

“I don’t know where Pepper is. Was. I told her to leave the city. I didn't know what was going to happen and I told her to get to somewhere safe. It was total chaos when Thanos landed. I think she was on the jet - it was missing and I haven't found it. All networks and satellites went down, globally. Probably the jet crashed over the ocean, after. If Pepper comes back, she’ll be ten thousand feet up without a parachute, over open water. So will thousands of others. Everyone driving or flying or on a ship, or in a building that’s been burned or demolished - they’ll all die when they come back, without ever knowing what happened. And I’m terrified that’s going to happen to her. That she’ll come back, and slip through my fingers. I set up warning systems. I have sentinels as far out as I can spare them, I have satellites focused on every area she could have been. I did everything I could think of, but I’ll have thirty seconds, tops, to find her and catch her before I lose her again, Loki. Thirty seconds.”

Stark shook his head, despairing. Without turning around, he rested his head on Loki’s shoulder, and Loki tentatively wrapped an arm around him, pulling him a little closer. What comfort he could offer was utterly inadequate to the depth of pain the man was suffering.

Stark was a mortal man, just one man, trying to stand up against the horror that had been inflicted on the universe, while his own incalculable loss weighed on his shoulders like a millstone.

“I am sorry, Tony,” Loki said, but even as he said it an idea took root and bloomed in his mind. It was an idea he could hardly even believe came from him, an idea, perhaps, that his brother or his father or mother might have had, or even his old self, but not him now, not this shambling, pathetic creature sitting naked on a medical bed, impregnated with alien eggs and begging to be violated. 

And yet, there it was, the idea rising in his mind like the sun rising over the ocean, crystal clear and sparkling. It would not be denied.

“Tony,” Loki said, his voice low, almost a whisper, in case the idea fled from his mind at the audacity of speaking it. “Tony. My magic. I can help you. I can help you save her.”


	50. Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I am back - what a crazy few weeks! I am still trying to get back to normal (whatever that is, these days), and this chapter took me way too long to write, but here it is! Hope I can start to get momentum back and keep going. Hope you're all doing well and staying safe.

Tony stiffened, and he pulled away from Loki's touch, his face shutting down.

"Don't." His voice was harsh and cold. "Don't try to manipulate me."

"I am not -" Loki tried to explain, but Stark was not interested in his explanation.

"No," he said flatly, standing and turning his back on Loki where he sat on the bed. “No, I’m not going to let you escape me. I can’t risk it. Four billion lives are at stake.”

“You do not have to remove the disc -” Loki was pushing too hard, but he could not stop himself. The glimmer of hope was too much to resist. Could he be more that what the Grandmaster had turned him into?

Without turning around, Stark cut him off. “I said no. Get dressed and go to your room.”

Loki bit his lip and hung his head, chastened. His legs were unsteady and his eyes watering as he climbed off the bed to obey. Stark would not allow him to even explain himself. Loki crushed down his disappointment. He should not be surprised. Stark had seen very clearly what Loki was, why would he think he had anything to offer other than as a pawn in Stark's bargain with the Grandmaster?

Stark watched him dress, arms folded over his chest. When he was done, Loki bowed and hesitated before asking, "Will you come up with me?"

Stark shook his head, his eyes darting over to the metal cylinders visible through the plastic curtain.

“I’ll be up soon.”

Loki bowed again, hiding the chill that passed through him at the reminder that Stark had the crogall eggs in his lab. He was not going to destroy them. He had some other purpose.

In the elevator, Loki took a deep breath and smoothed his shirt down over his belly. The tight, round mass of the eggs was gone, but the skin of his belly, once hard and flat with muscle, was soft, puffy and tender. He knew he should not have expected to find his former body returned to him, but still Loki swallowed down his disappointment - there was no going back, it seemed. The only way was forward.

He pressed down on his belly, high up close to his ribs. He felt a mass lodged there, about the size of his doubled fists. The last batch of eggs - Kuuth’s eggs, still latched on to his gut like a parasite, feeding on his flesh. Loki shuddered, and wrapped his arms around his newly slender middle in a tight hug. Stark had done this for him - he had removed the eggs and removed the golden rings the Grandmaster had pierced him with. He was not cruel or unreasonable. Loki was lucky to be here with him.

Thor was waiting in Stark’s apartment. He jumped to his feet when the elevator deposited him there, looking Loki up and down, an anxious frown on his face.

“You are well?” he asked, well aware of what Stark had been doing with him down in the lab.

Loki nodded, tired and dispirited. “Yes, I am well enough Thor.” Stark’s last order echoed in his head, and he knew better than to disobey. “Will you join me in my room?”

Thor furrowed his brow and pointed over at Stark’s luxurious living area. “It would be more comfortable here, brother.”

“I am afraid I cannot.” Loki did not want to explain that Stark had sent him to his room like a misbehaving child. Thor seemed to understand after another moment’s concentration.

“I see.” Thor did not seem pleased, and Loki himself was not pleased either, but there was nothing he could do about it. He made sure Thor was between him and the door to the room with the Grandmaster’s box. Even though he hurried past it, he could feel the cold draft wrapped around his ankles, trying to tug him back, but with Thor by his side, he was less afraid.

The room Stark had given him was small and windowless, tucked away in the internal heart of his tower. The last time Loki had been here he had been too confused and afraid to take in the details, but now he saw that despite the lack of natural light, the room was comfortable enough. The bed took up most of the space, and a door on the opposite side led to a small bathroom. There was no chair or desk, only a dresser for clothes that Loki did not possess.

He sat on the bed, and gestured for Thor to do the same. They did not speak, Loki too overwhelmed and depressed, Thor waiting patiently for Loki to recover himself enough to explain.

“He could not get them all out,” Loki said. Thor scooted closer and tugged Loki towards him, one arm around his shoulders. Loki leaned over, resting his head and letting the tension bleed out of him. His mind was floating, confused and uncertain.

The eggs were nearly all gone, but the need for physical affection still lingered. Whatever hormones the eggs had released into his blood still affected him, and the remaining eggs may still be leaching chemicals into his body. Loki did not know what was real and what was hormone-induced manipulation. He used to be able to think clearly, he used to be able to strategize, to understand a situation and think of a dozen ways to twist it to his advantage, but the Grandmaster had dulled that ability. Loki was blunted, like a knife used to cut damp wood, blunted, rusted and bent. Almost useless.

Almost.

“I can help,” Loki said. He did not look at Thor, did not turn his head to see his reaction. Thor had always had a low opinion of magic, but he was Loki’s only chance to convince someone of his usefulness.

“Help with what, brother.” Thor gently prompted him, and Loki realized he had zoned out again. He shook himself, trying to concentrate.

“Stark told me that when the Grandmaster returns everyone, there will be many deaths. People who were in high buildings that have been destroyed. People traveling over the oceans, or in fast vehicles. They will all die.”

_ Stark’s wife will die. _

He did not say that out loud. He was not sure why.

“You can help?” Thor was keeping him focused, despite the fog that covered his mind. Loki had done nothing but survive for a long time, and his mind was well used to hiding from the reality of what was in front of him. He had to change that now, he had to adapt again, just as he had changed and adapted his whole long life. He had to stop hiding and try to help himself, and help Midgard too.

“Yes. I can cast a web over this city, larger, if I have enough power. Anyone who falls can be caught. Anyone who comes back to a dangerous location can be moved. It would not be easy. Perhaps I could not save everyone. But I could save some, if Stark would allow me to access my magic.”

Thor considered it, while Loki held his breath, his hands wrapped around his knees, trying to quell his nervous energy. If Thor would not speak up for him, no-one would.

“He believes you will escape, if he allows it,” Thor said eventually.

Loki nodded.

“Will you?” Thor turned to look at him, eyes bright and clear, burning into his head. Loki looked down, clasped his hands tighter on his knees. Would he? If he had the opportunity, if he found a crack in the cage that trapped him here, would he slip through it?

“Not before the Grandmaster has fulfilled his bargain,” he said, with as much honesty as he could force into himself. He owed Stark that, as least. The man had pulled him out of the Grandmaster’s clutches, and Loki would pay his debts. “I will wait long enough for the people of Midgard to be restored. I give you my word on that.”

“And after?’

Loki shrugged. After, he would consider his debts to have been paid. If Stark had any kind of honor he would release Loki himself, once his people were returned.  


Thor took that for the answer it was, and nodded.

“I will speak to him,” he said. “You will be alright here alone?”

Loki nodded. He was tired, and his body ached. He would prefer to be with someone, but he would far more prefer Thor to persuade Stark to loosen the chain around his neck. Without even a sliver of his magic, he was helpless and powerless, and entirely at Stark’s mercy, or at the mercy of whoever held the control device.

Thor shut the door softly behind him. Loki considered a shower, but the bathroom door was so very far away. Sleep first, he decided, and then shower when he woke up. He lay down on his back and stretched out, trying to ease the ache of his back. The full day of kneeling before Stark's machine had taken its toll, but he did not regret it. His body ached, his guts were churning and cramping, and his hole was tender and sore, but the eggs were almost gone. His body was almost his own again, and he had Stark to thank for that.

He pulled the blanket over himself and stared up at the ceiling, allowing his mind to drift. The fantasy came easily, that Thor could persuade Stark to trust him, that he would be allowed to use his magic, and once he had fulfilled his unspoken bargain with Stark, he could flee. Until then, of course, he would do nothing to arouse suspicion. Stark must think him broken and obedient. He must think him his devoted and grateful slave.

Loki closed his eyes, and in the four corners of the room above his head, the red lights of the cameras blinked, unsleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone - if you're wondering that happened to the last few chapters, I have taken them down to rework them. I was not happy with them and a few commenters also let me know (nicely!) that they were not my best. I do love you guys and I want to give you good quality work, so I am going to make some changes and start up again. I will post the old chapters as an alternate version, chose your own adventure style "Click Here If You Want Loki To Get his Balls Whipped" (Don't lie I know we would all click it - that's why I wrote it!) BUT it was kind of OOC for Tony to do that, and that left me with a bit of a mess to unravel, so I am waving my magic wand and taking a do-over. Stay tuned....


	51. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings. If you did not notice already, I have waved my magic wand and rewound some of this story, so this chapter picks up right after Loki's day in the lab getting the eggs removed, and after he talks to Thor about how he offered to help Midgard with magic. I deleted the chapter where Tony flips out and beats Loki with his belt, and the chapters after that - I will post them back up later as a side-story, but for now just pretend that didn't happen. I know a lot of you liked it, but don't worry, Loki still has more suffering to come, I just wanted to get there a different way.  
> I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

“Are you awake?”

Loki jerked into consciousness, disoriented. It was dark in the windowless room he slept in, and no light spilled in from the hallway. It must still be night. The figure in his doorway was a black silhouette, but Loki knew who it was.

A shiver ran down his spine - a warning of trouble. Still half asleep, exhausted from his day in Stark's lab, Loki listened to his instincts. He slid out of the bed and dropped to his knees on the floor. It did not hurt to be careful.

“Yes, Tony, I am awake.”

“Tony? Little familiar there, Loki.”

The faint smell of alcohol floated from the doorway, and Loki bowed his head and put his hands on the floor.

This was not good.

Stark was drunk and irritated. It was unlikely that a show of humility would help, but Loki would have to try. He had no other defense against the man - he could only submit.

“I apologize, sir,” he said, not bothering to remind Stark that he himself had told Loki to use his first name. It would only irritate him further to be contradicted.

Loki waited, his quick breath the only sound in the quiet room.

"Thor had some choice words for me this evening. Many, many words. He only just left, in fact. Do you know anything about that?”

_Oh no._

Stark stumbled into the dark room and sat on Loki’s bed, behind his back and out of his sight. Loki did not dare move. He tried to marshal his thoughts and pull himself together, but fear had ruled him for so long that it was almost impossible for him to strategize. All the could think about was how to appease his master and avoid more pain and humiliation.

He tried to string together an excuse, but before he was halfway through the first sentence Stark took a long drink from his bottle and said, “Before you continue, let me remind you that there are cameras in this room, running 24/7.”

_Oh no._

Loki wracked his brain. What had he said to Thor? What were his exact words? Had he said anything disparaging about Stark? About Midgard? Anything that was going to earn him a more severe punishment than he had already earned? He could not remember, and he cursed his failing memory. There was nothing he could do but grovel and hope Stark would forgive him.

“I apologize most humbly, sir. I should not have told Thor about our conversation. My loyalty is to you, not to him, and I forgot that. It will not happen again.” Loki bit his tongue rather than ask for punishment. If Stark wanted to punish him, he would, but Loki would not invite it.

Stark was unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, pretty words. Thor told me they used to call you _silvertongue_ because you could always talk your way out of trouble. Do you think that’s going to work here?”

Loki carefully raised his head, peering over his shoulder into the darkness. Loki could not see Stark's face, but he did not sound angry. He seemed drunk and, as odd as it may seem, in search of company. Loki decided to be daring. What did he have to lose?

“That was not the only reason they called me silvertongue.”

Stark snorted, coughing up the mouthful of the liquor he had been about to swallow.

“Oh nice. Very nice. I'm sure that’s true. Pretty words, pretty face, pretty mouth too. I bet. But you’re not going to distract me so easily. I'm pissed at you.”

Stark stretched out his foot and pushed Loki forward, a clumsy, drunken shove. He was not even wearing shoes, so it could hardly be called a kick. Still, Loki did not resist it. He let himself fall onto his hands, and bowed his head again. If Stark wanted him on his hands and knees, that is what he would get.

Loki's initial rush of panic and fear was wearing off, and he began to analyze his situation, his mind almost physically beginning to tick over. Stark was intoxicated, but he seemed amenable. He did not enjoy being lectured by Thor, but who did? Loki merely had to encourage Stark's good humor, divert him from his irritation, and all would be well. It was a delicate dance though, for a bone-tired slave in the middle of the night.

Stark was not done berating him. “Didn’t I tell you not to discuss me with Thor?”

“Yes, sir, you did. I apologize for my error. I will not do it again.”

Stark sighed and laid back on Loki’s bed. Loki could hear the springs creaking as he got comfortable there. “It’s kind of nice to see you getting a bit of your spirit back, Loki, but don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

“You are,” Loki said at once, taking his cue. “You are in charge, sir. I have not forgotten. I swore to obey you and I will.”

Stark drank from his bottle again, his voice quieter now, sleep beginning to call to him. “Yeah, well, if you don’t I can _make_ you. We can’t afford any mistakes, remember that.”

“I will, sir,” Loki said, completely sincere. He knew that no matter how kind Stark was, how many favors he did or liberties he allowed, Loki was still entirely at his mercy. Stark controlled the obedience disk and he could enforce his will any time he chose. Loki was profoundly thankful that Stark was too mellow and tired to punish him, seeming content to scold him and warn him off such missteps in the future.

“OK, well, I’m gonna think things over. Sleep on it. Thor told me you could do it, though. He said you were the best.”

Loki looked up, startled. Thor had complimented his magical abilities? The most Thor had ever done in Loki’s hearing was to admit that magic was not entirely useless, and even then only when forced to by a near-death experience.

“I _can_ do it,” Loki said, cautious, trying not to let a tiny spark of hope flare in his belly. “I will save as many as I can, if you will allow me to, sir.”

Stark stretched out and yawned, getting comfortable on Loki's bed. He reached out and stroked one hand through Loki's hair, a casual, possessive gesture that told Loki Stark was not done with him yet.

“I’m gonna think about it, like I said. Now get up here, _silvertongue_. Show me how sorry you are.”

Loki supposed he should be glad that Stark was an amorous drunk, rather than an aggressive one. He did as he was told, climbing up onto the bed in the velvet darkness, finding his way by touch. If Stark wanted Loki's mouth, he could have it. Stark was sprawled out on his back, one hand fumbling with his pants, the other still holding his bottle.

“May I do that, sir?”

Stark grunted his assent and Loki unbuttoned Stark pants. He was not completely sure that he was not dreaming this entire encounter. It was so dark, and the threads of sleep and tiredness still clung to him. Even if this was a dream, Loki was at least grateful that Stark did not want to fuck him. He would do it if he had to, of course, but he was sore and tender from the day with Stark's machine probing his guts. This was better. This was fine.

Loki got to work. He knew how to do this. He knew how to please a man with his mouth - not the Grandmaster’s way, with his jaw propped open and a fat cock rammed down his throat, but his own way - with lips and tongue, with suction and soft licks and the occasional gentle touch of his teeth. Loki knew how to do this, and although it had been a long time since he had done it willingly, he found himself willing now. Stark could make him obey, as he had said, but he did not need to. Loki wanted to please his master, he wanted to do well, he wanted to hear Stark’s moan, and he wanted to earn his forgiveness for what he had done wrong.

Stark rested one hand on Loki’s head, but he did not force him down, and did not push his cock further into his mouth. He lay back and let Loki pleasure him, letting out a long, luxuriant sigh.

“Mmm. Yeah, that’s good. More of that. Why should I do the work all the time, hmm? Mmmm...good...good...ahh, ahh!”

Loki hummed, vibrating his throat, and Stark moaned in response. The bottle slipped from his hand and spilled onto Loki’s bed at the same time as Stark spilled in his mouth.

Loki swallowed his master’s seed, unobtrusively wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Well, he definitely was not dreaming - the taste on his tongue convinced him of that.

“Good boy.”

Stark’s hand cupped his jaw, his thumb stroking his lips. Loki leaned into it, still needy for touch despite most of the eggs being gone.

Loki lay down, seeking more of Stark's warmth. The bed was smaller than Stark’s, and they were side by side. Loki was laying in the spilled patch of liquor, but he did not mind. he did not even mind providing this service, if Stark would keep touching him like that - softly, and with gentle affection.

Loki dared to ask. “I am sorry for speaking to Thor. Do you forgive me?”

Stark huffed, sleepy and satiated. “Not yet. Ask me tomorrow. Now..."

An uncoordinated shove sent Loki tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. He landed with a thud, bending his wrist backwards and banging his head on the dresser. Stark chuckled, amused at his own trick, oblivious to Loki's pain.

“You’ve been naughty. You can sleep on the floor.”

Loki swallowed his whimper, and did not try to protest. Arguing with a drunk was a bad idea, especially one who literally owned him. Stark seemed content with the punishment he had dealt out and Loki would not tempt him to do more.

He bowed in the darkness and said, “Yes, sir,” but his only answer was Stark's snore.

Silently, Loki crawled to the wall and put his back against it, pulling his knees up and hugging himself. He had no pillow and no blanket, and the night air was cool. The change from laying next to Stark's warm body to laying here alone on the hard floor made him strangely sad. It was not that it was a particularly harsh punishment, but compared to being Stark's _little spoon_ , as he had been allowed the night before, it almost made him want to cry.

_It's the hormones, that is all. Do not be pathetic, Stark will not appreciate it._

Loki tried to find a comfortable position, curling up on his side, his head resting on his arm. This was fine. This was _deserved_. It was, in fact, a very lenient punishment compared to what he knew Stark was capable of. Sucking Stark's cock and then sleeping on the floor at his feet could hardly be called a punishment at all.

Loki would consider himself lucky, and consider the lesson well learned - he would not confide Stark's business to Thor. Stark's decisions were final, and Loki would submit to them.

There was little else he could do.


	52. Threats and Broken Promises

Loki woke early the next day. The floor was uncomfortable and his lingering aches and soreness was not helped by the lack of any blanket to keep him warm. He would have liked to stand and stretch, if it were not for Stark still sleeping in his bed.

Loki sat up, keeping as quiet as he could. From the sound of Stark’s snores he was still deeply asleep, but after a night of drinking he would wake up in a bad mood, Loki was sure of it.

What to do? Should he tiptoe away and let Stark sleep, or should he stay where he was? He had not been dismissed, and Stark had wanted him on the floor at his feet. If he woke up found him gone, it would not go well for Loki.

He chewed his nails, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, legs drawn up to his chest, and decided not to leave the room. It was not worth the risk - Stark had let him off lightly the night before, but Loki could not count on such mercy twice, especially in the cold light of day.

The light filtering under the door was bright when Stark finally woke, hours later. He groaned, rolled over, and pulled the pillow over his head. Loki held his breath. This is when he would find out if it would have been wiser to make himself scarce.

He shifted to sit on his knees, and kept his voice respectfully low. “Good morning, sir."

Stark froze, then peeled the pillow off his face and squinted over at Loki.

“What’re you doing there,” he mumbled. Then he looked around the room, realizing where he was. “What am I doing here…”

He sat up, then clutched his head and groaned, falling back on the bed. “Thirsty.”

Loki jumped to his feet. He was so glad to have instructions to follow that he hardly glanced at the door to the forbidden room as he passed it. He took a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and hurried back to Stark’s side. He knelt to give him bottle, which earned him a side-eyed look, but Stark cracked the lid and drank the cold water before he commented.

“So what’s going on. Why am I in your room? Why are you on the floor?”

Loki chose his words very, very carefully.

“You came here last night, sir, to...reprimand...me for involving my brother in your affairs.”

“Reprimand you? What did I do?”

Loki involuntarily glanced downward and Stark followed his eyes, realizing his pants were still unbuttoned. He grabbed them and quickly fastened them, as though trying to hide something, which made no sense at all.

“Loki, what happened last night?”

“You told me I had displeased you, and I apologized. We...I....”

Stark scowled at his hesitation. “There are cameras in this room, Loki. Tell me or I’ll just go watch the recording. Did I hurt you?”

Loki had forgotten the cameras. There was little to gain by obfuscation anyway, so he gave up and told the facts plain of the matter.

“You did not hurt me. You came in my mouth and made me sleep on the floor, that is all. It was…” Loki had been about to say ‘it was nothing’ but he bit his tongue on the words. Stark had intended to put him in his place, and if he thought he had failed perhaps he would try again. Loki quickly corrected himself. “It was well deserved and I have learned my lesson. I will not discuss your affairs with Thor again.”

“Shit.”

Stark rubbed his face with both hands, as though trying to wake himself up. Loki waited, unsure what to say next. Stark’s head probably ached and he would not appreciate Loki breaking the silence.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

Loki shook his head, discounting Stark’s half-hearted kick and the shove from the bed that had sent him tumbling onto the floor. Those did not count.

Stark flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Well, OK. I guess that’s something to be thankful for. I'm still pissed at you for siccing Thor on me. But I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“It is your right,” Loki shrugged, but even as he said it he knew that Stark did not care what was right. He was only concerned with what was _necessary._ He would do what was necessary to help his world and his people, without much regard for what was right. That is how he had been able to torture Loki so brutally the day he had purchased him, and then treat him so kindly after. He would do what he needed to do, right or wrong. If he needed to discipline Loki, he would.

Stark finished his water and looked down at Loki kneeling at his feet. Loki did his best to appear both humble and trustworthy, neither of which were his defining characteristics. Stark regarded him and sighed. Tiredness lingered around his eyes, and was evident in the slump of his shoulders.

"Get up," he said eventually. "Just get up, Loki. I don't know what I'm doing here, honestly. I'm trying to help as many people as I can, but does that mean I can trust you without _this_?"

He reached out and flicked the metal disc in Loki's neck, sending an unpleasant vibration through the inside of his body. Loki got to his feet as ordered, and tried not to be too obvious about stepping back, putting the obedience disc out of Stark's casual reach. The thing was burrowed into his flesh like a beetle, and touching it made his stomach turn.

"I will give you my word, if that would help," Loki offered.

Stark laughed without humor. "Isn't another of your nicknames _Liesmith_? I'm afraid your word doesn't mean much to me. I know what I need to do."

They left Loki's bedroom but Stark stopped as soon as they were in the passageway. He took Loki's elbow and turned him to face the door opposite, the door that led to the room he feared more than anything else.

Without thinking, Loki stepped back, shrinking against the opposite wall.

Stark took a deep, fortifying breath before he spoke again.

"I don't trust you, Loki, but it seems that I _have_ to. Thor told me you can do it, and if there's even a chance you can save people if - _when -_ everyone comes back, I have to take the risk. But listen to me very carefully. If you try to fuck me over, I will fuck you right back, do you understand me?"

Loki nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew exactly what Stark was threatening him with. He did not need to spell it out, but just in case there was any doubt, Stark stepped forward and put his hand on the door handle.

"I know I promised you I wouldn't do this, but these are desperate times."

He turned the handle and let the door swing open. Loki's knees buckled under him and he slid down the wall as a gust of cold, damp air wrapped itself eagerly around him. He was too terrified to close his eyes against the obscene curve of chrome, the fat tubes that hung down from above, the dials and straps and plugs that awaited him. The box was hungry for him. There was an empty space in its gut and that space was shaped just like Loki.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes!" Loki managed to wrench his eyes away, looking up at Stark instead. "Yes, yes, I understand! I will not betray you. Please, Stark, I will obey you! You do not have to do this."

"It's my right," Stark said, taking a handful of Loki's hair and forcing him to look through the door again. "It's my right, isn't that what you said? If it's my right to come in your mouth then it's my right to do this, isn't it?"

Loki's fingernails dug into the carpet underneath him, as though he would tear it up, as though he could crawl under it and vanish like a mouse.

"Yes," he forced himself to say. "Yes, sir. It is your right."

Stark shut the door and leaned against it, arms folded and grimly satisfied.

"OK then. Now we both know where we stand. Kitchen."

Loki scrambled away from the door, a sheen of sweat covering his body, his palms sticky with it, the sound of his pulse like thunder in his ears. Of course it would come back to that. Of _course_ it would. It was necessary, and so Stark would do it. It was necessary for Stark to break his promise, to threaten Loki with what he knew would keep him in line, and so he did it. If it came to it, if Loki betrayed his master, it would be necessary for Stark to fulfill his threat.

Loki had no doubt at all that he would do it.

Like dark water closing over his head, the true extent of Stark's threat seeped into Loki's bones. If he stepped out of line, he would end up back in the box, and this time, there would be no countdown, there would be no possibility of release. If Stark put Loki in there, he was never, ever going to let him out.

He was going to let him die there.


	53. Experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, this is going to be the last chapter for a while - I need to take a mental health break. I have loved writing this fic, it has been a serious stress reliever, and your supportive comments have meant the world to me. I might drop in and write on this or other fics if I can, but I can't keep up the same pace. Thank you all so much for coming with me on this journey so far, it really means so much to me, and I have felt your presence wherever you are in the world. 
> 
> I will still be around, probably reblogging Loki content on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/endlessstairway) if you want to hang out (or be silent mutuals and never talk).
> 
> I love you all, and I sincerely wish you all the very best.
> 
> Until we meet again
> 
> xoxoxo

In the kitchen, Stark made coffee. His movements were slower and more careful than usual, and if he took longer about the task than he usually did, neither of them commented on it.

Loki silently accepted the bottle that Stark gave him, then shook himself and spoke his thanks out loud. Despite the threat Stark had delivered, Loki still needed to show his gratitude for the small kindnesses that Stark showed him. Or at least, he did if he wanted them to continue.

The tension between them did not fade away as they drank their morning beverages without another word. Loki had been too comfortable with Stark, he could see that clearly. He had thought him kind because he had removed the eggs and he had let Loki sleep in his arms rather than suffer his touch-hunger alone. Those things were not kindnesses, Loki knew now, they were necessities that Stark had performed to keep his slave functional. That was all. Stark did what was necessary, not what was right.

Loki’s ears were stuffed up, and everything around him was muffled and quiet. He blinked once, and the gleaming chrome of Stark’s coffee maker bulged and twisted, distorting in the corner of his eye until he blinked again and banished the illusion. The gritty drink that Stark fed him on was like glue in his throat, and sat like rocks in his stomach. It reminded him too much of the nutrient paste he had been force-fed on Sakaar - thick, tasteless gruel, intended to remind him of his place. Stark could eat whatever he liked, but Loki had to eat what he was given, and Stark only gave him this.

_ At least he feeds you. At least he lets you sleep at his feet. At least he doesn't store you in the box at night and decide whether or not to let you out in the morning. _

Loki's hand was shaking too much to drink any more, and he was out of time anyway. Stark led the way to the elevator and Loki followed, barely feeling the pad of his bare feet on the floor.

As they walked Stark was talking, and it seemed he had been talking for a while, but all Loki could hear was the sound of rushing water in his ears. He blinked and shook his head, but could not clear it. He put his hands up to his ears, but nothing was blocking them. It was as though everything was happening in slow motion, and when Stark tired of repeating himself he just steered Loki through the lab and pushed his shoulders until he lay down on the bed.

Loki tried to check his ears again but found his wrists were bound and he couldn’t move. Stark had fastened the restraints. That was good, and Loki's rising tension eased. If he was restrained he would not be able to do anything wrong, and Stark would have no reason to punish him.

A sharp pinch in his upper arm helped him focus. Stark had injected him with the medicine to help the last batch of eggs release from his guts. Loki was breathing a little easier when another sharp pinch came in the same arm. A second injection. Loki looked up but Stark wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s something to keep track of you,” was all he would say.

Loki did not reply. Whatever it was, it was already inside his body and there was nothing he could do about it.

The canisters of eggs were still lined up against the side of the curtained-off space, but Stark didn’t get the body scanner to check on the last batch, still burrowed in Loki's gut. He had other business to attend to. Other changes to make to Loki that were more important.

Stark took his time setting up his equipment. The space was cramped with screens and scanners when he was satisfied. He had even shoved Loki's bed to one side to make room to drag in another table to hold it all. The last thing he did was brush Loki’s hair away from his neck and snap a magnetic cable to the obedience disk, connecting with a clear metallic click.

Loki twitched and shifted uncomfortably in his bonds. It didn’t hurt, but any touch on the disk made him hyper-aware of the spools of filaments that ran through his body, linking to his nerves, his bones, and his organs. He was a puppet and the obedience disk was the string that controlled him.

Stark connected the other end of the cable to his equipment, and with a soft glow, the space lit up. Loki looked up to a universe of himself. It was not the narrow view of his insides that the body scanner had displayed, but all his organs, his nerves, the electrical patterns in his brain and the twitch of his muscles. It was all displayed on the screens surrounding them, sliced and separated like specimens pressed in the pages of a book. Loki was fragmented, taken apart and reduced to his component parts, ready to be modified.

Stark stared at the screens for a long, long time.

Occasionally he made small adjustments on his touch-panel, but Loki did not see any pattern in the changing displays. Eventually he stopped watching. Flat on his back as he was, it was awkward for him to look at the screens anyway. Instead, he just stared up at the roof of the lab, crisscrossed with metal supports and looped with cables and wires. It was chaotic, but Stark seemed more at home in here than he did anywhere else. Here, he was calm and focused. Upstairs in the penthouse he was anxious, snappy and unpredictable.

In the long silence, Loki allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to feel the power of Yggdrasil again. He had been locked away from that power for over a year, the longest he ever had been without it. For a creature like Loki, with magic in his bones, being severed from it was a harsh loss. It was as harsh as the loss of his sight or hearing, or the loss of the ability to read. It was a disfigurement as violating as the tattoos on his face or the blank white globes of his eyes, if not worse. Loki had suffered so much loss, one piled atop the next, that he had not truly been able to comprehend any of it - he had been too busy surviving. Now, faced with the possibility of his magic being returned to him, he had nothing to do but think.

If Stark gave him his power back, Loki would keep to his word. He was very sure about that. The very idea of anything else sent a shiver down his spine and the glint of chrome flashing in the corner of his eye. Besides, Stark would not return all his power. He would loosen Loki's leash the exact amount that it would take to accomplish the task that he was set, and no further. Stark was no fool. He would take no chances, and so neither would Loki. Stark would not make a threat such that he had made without also giving himself the means to carry it out. Whatever substance he had injected into Loki’s arm would be traceable at least anywhere on Midgard. If Loki left Midgard, all Stark would have to do was call on Thor, or even the Grandmaster himself to put him back in his place, which either of them undoubtedly would.

No, even with a measure of his power returned, Loki would obey Stark. He would do what he could do lessen the damage of undoing Thanos' work. He would save as many lives as he could, and in doing so perhaps he could save his own.

Stark interrupted Loki's hopeless contemplation, pushing back from the work table and turning to face him.

“Alright, we'll start with something simple to test the level of fine control. It's something you'll like, if it works. I’m...well, I’m  _ not  _ sorry for what I said earlier, but I  _ am  _ sorry that I had to say it. If things were different..." He trailed off, running his hand through his tousled hair, silent for a long moment before he recovered himself. "But they’re not different, Loki. I can’t trust you with four billion lives without some insurance. I just can’t. But if you play nice with me, I’ll play nice with you. Understand?”

Loki was not sure that he understood all that Stark had said, but he certainly understood the answer that was expected of him.

“Yes, sir.”

“OK. Then let's do this. Friday, go ahead.”

Loki flinched. The reaction was instinctive and he regretted it at once, but the expected pain from the obedience disk did not come. Nothing at all seemed to happen except a slight twinge behind his eyes, perhaps a headache forming.

What had Stark done? Had his experiment failed?

Stark pulled the lever to raise the top section of the bed, lifting Loki in a sitting position. He glanced up at Stark, and was taken aback to see the man looking directly at him, meeting his gaze, his face open and curious.

“Well that worked pretty well for a first try,” Stark said, smiling for the first time that day.

He rummaged on the table behind him and picked up a piece of half-shaped metal, dull on one side, but smooth and golden on the other. He held it up in front of Loki’s face, and Loki gasped at what he saw.

His mirror image blinked back at him, but instead of unnatural white, his shocked eyes were bright emerald green.

Stark had given his eyes back.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [apyewackety](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apyewackety/pseuds/apyewackety) Log in to view. 
  * [Loki - forged on Sakaar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443321) by [Debo77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Debo77/pseuds/Debo77)




End file.
